The Shadow Broker
by the.subverter
Summary: Spending much of her life with academia and isolation, coupled with assuming the role of the Shadow Broker, has made Liara cynical, ruthless and incomprehensibly oblivious. Liara x Samantha Traynor
1. Ruthless

A/N: Liara and Traynor! For the whopping three Liara and Traynor fans there are! Ah, I love accidentally stumbling into ridiculous ships I will then ship for life. The premise for this is basically "What would happen to that awkward Liara T'Soni if Shepard never romanced her and she then went on to become the Shadow Broker?" Thus this was born. Next chapter more Aethyta and Javik!

* * *

Liara clears her throat.

Communications Specialist Samantha Traynor turns around, datapad in hand. She bears an unapologetic but friendly smile. Liara has taken Miranda Lawson's former office and room for herself. Liara mourns being unable to salvage all the equipment from the Shadow Broker Base but she did save what matters. The equipment hasn't all been moved in and already there's someone poking around, uninvited. Maintaining secrecy aboard the Normandy will be a difficult task.

"This isn't Alliance issue…" Traynor tells her thoughtfully. Of course it isn't Alliance issue. Why say that? "But I suppose I'm being very rude right now. I'm Communications Specialist Traynor. Er—Samantha, for those not in the Alliance." Liara already knows. She considers pointing out that a lack of introductions isn't what 's rude. She knows every member of the crew and their rank and title. It would take longer to explain and she'd rather not. She lets her go on. "I work for R&D—. Or, I did, prior to the Reaper attack." She takes a breath, finally and this time her smile is embarrassed. "Welcome to the Normandy."

"Thank you," Liara moves into the room, giving Traynor a quick and somewhat dismissive glance before moving on, "but I've been here before. This wasn't my room," she says as an aside. She picks up a data pad and begins to read through the inventory. Not everything is here yet. She stifles her irritation.

"Oh. I didn't know that."

Which part didn't she know? That this wasn't her room? That she'd previously been aboard the vessel? Irrelevant. Liara wonders why Specialist Samantha Traynor is still in her room. She looks Traynor over. She doesn't seem particularly exemplary. She's attractive but for all Liara knows she's another Kelly Chambers. "Most people know that." Liara flicks through the datapad, sighing softly. "Was there anything more? I have quite a few things to get into order." And she's unused to engaging with others.

It's been a long time since she's had regular contact with anyone. All her life she's been alone. Benezia led her to many dull and intimidating functions. How she'd dreaded them. University life was an escape. After that, her escape became her work on Prothean dig sites. The silence of the dig sites was a blessing. They were an opportunity to focus on research and a culture long gone. It was meditative.

It wasn't always good. There was the embarrassment in Therum (how young she was!) before she spent a fragment of her life aboard the Normandy. That became her greatest exposure to humans (whom she still finds somewhat strange and reckless). It marked her first experience being part of a team and something greater. It was an uncomfortable time in which she practiced humility and tripped over words.

The brief stint on the Normandy was followed by another shard of interpersonal communication with the parties involved in the recovery of Shepard's body after his death.

Always small pockets of time framed by isolation. The last piece of time with others was Nyxeris on Illium. Nyxeris' duplicitous nature was almost to be admired. Liara resolved the situation. She found the Shadow Broker, killed the Shadow Broker.

She lost nothing but hired men and Feron. Feron would have stabbed her in the back eventually. He had, more times than she could count. But she owed him his life and her own. A debt she failed to repay. Pity. She liked him.

The past two and a half years have stripped her of any naivety in maneuvering the complexities of people, the lies and excuses they'll invent. Some play innocent with mastery but Liara has learned to see past it. Every trace of a person's existence at her fingertips provides the data to separate emotion and sentimentality into fact. Some call her ruthless. Let them. It umeans she's won or is about to. The Shadow Broker can't afford niceties. She's made difficult and brutal decisions since taking over but they have been her decisions.

And now the world is ending again. She had not anticipated returning to the Normandy, fleeing from Cerberus, joining this madness and Shepard, others again.

She does better brokering information than following social cues.

She and Shepard have never been close, despite her respect for him, he having a particular weakness for Chief, no, Lieutenant-Commander Ashley Williams and Liara…not. Liara absently wonders when she'll be out of the hospital. They may not get along but a good soldier is always welcome, especially for the war.

The Communications Specialist is still in the room, looking around, memorizing, making mental notes. Making actual notes in her datapad. Liara doesn't like it. "Was there anything else?" Liara asks again.

"Nothing more. Commander Shepard suggested I meet the crew." Traynor shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Liara finally looks up at her, waiting. "So… I'll just be going. It was…a pleasure," she says stiltedly. Liara doubts it. "If you have any questions, not that I think you will," she mutters under her breath, "you can find me in CIC or the crew's quarters."

"Thank you but I'll manage on my own."

Liara has already looked away, resuming her inventory work by the time Traynor exits.

* * *

It's late night but Traynor is in CIC going over the Normandy systems. She knows EDI has a handle on things but wishes to expand her own working knowledge on the ship she's been stationed (trapped) on. Retrofitting it and redesigning for months hasn't been enough to provide her with all the answers.

Liara's room draws inordinate amounts of power. Traynor wonders how much of it has to do with her (clearly not Alliance) equipment. Typically she would ask but Liara T'Soni is difficult, to say the least.

Are all asari so aloof? It's a shame. Traynor would have liked to make a friend aboard the Normandy. Traynor has done some light research on Liara. A Prothean expert (can there be such a thing? Aren't they extinct?), daughter of Matriarch Benezia (!) who helped Shepard stop Sovereign and Saren.

After that, there's little trace of her. It appears she's returned to academia. And to the Normandy to snipe at her for not knowing she'd once been a member of the crew. Is that something she should have known? The galaxy hardly knew about what Shepard did. She's only a specialist, hardly the type with the necessary access to personnel files.

Nor had she known that Liara T'Soni would be joining them after their trip to Mars. Traynor sighs inwardly and rubs her eyes. She takes the elevator down to the third deck and yawns sleepily. It is only chance that she faces Liara's office when she steps off the elevator. Light flares and spikes beneath the razor thin space beneath the door. Traynor walks towards it, in a daze. The door slides open.

The room is dark. The light she saw is only the bleeding of the monitors arrayed across the wall like mosaic. Traynor walks deeper into the room, tripping over a thick cord, the size of her fist, in the process. She stumbles, grabbing blindly and finding the edge of a terminal to balance herself. The computer equipment available is antiquated, current, some of it technologically superior than anything she has ever seen.

"Can I help you?"

Liara is at the door. Oh, bloody hell. This is the second time she's been caught in her room and she can't pretend to have a good excuse this time. It's the middle of the night. "It's…rather dark in here. Have high power levels caused your lights to malfunction?"

Liara scoffs. "Very funny." She moves into the room, wearing her jacket. It looks like a lab coat. She wears what looks like a white tanktop beneath and black slacks. She's barefoot. "I'm used to human males having a fascination with my kind. But why are you here? This is the second time you've intruded."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to." How has Liara managed to make her feel like a pervert? "I saw the lights…" she explains, "and found myself here before I knew it." Liara is looking at all the monitors, ingesting the endless feeds that zip by. "Just…what is it that you do here?"

"That isn't your concern."

"I can't say that I agree," Traynor says. "You are onboard the Normandy and it is both my job and EDI's to monitor core functions of the ship. Energy usage levels have spiked since you've joined Commander Shepard on his mission. Power flow has to constantly be monitored and redirected so that systems run to full capability. As is, we'll have to requisition several pieces just to make up for your…work."

"The Normandy is only one ship," she says thoughtfully. "I'll make the necessary adjustments. Requisitions won't be necessary."

"A systems analysis will be the judge of that. If I may ask… what does a Prothean expert do on a mission like this? The Protheans are long gone. I'm not even sure what they have to do with the Reapers."

"Shepard initially had contact with a Prothean beacon on Eden Prime. That was years ago. My…expertise was 'requested' for him to make sense of the images both there and with the Cipher. If not for that we wouldn't know the Reapers extinguished the Protheans almost 50,000 years ago. And now they're back to finish us."

It's strange how the cold grasp of terror will cinch tightly around her. She does well enough when she keeps busy. She does well when she doesn't think of her family or when she can pretend that she's merely onboard the Normandy to finish retrofitting. Things were easier in the lab.

"Are you afraid?" Liara asks when Traynor says nothing.

"If I say yes?"

"Then you're not crazy," she says with the faintest of smiles. It transforms her face wholly from icy and detached to warm and approachable.

Traynor's heart skips a beat. She wonders how weeks passed without realizing that the woman before her is beautiful. "I hope I'm not meant to find that encouraging."

"No." Liara says, all business once again. She goes to a computer terminal and pulls up schematics that mean nothing to Traynor. "These are the blueprints for the Crucible. I found them in the Mars archives—it's a weapon of Prothean design, capable of mass destruction. We think so, anyway… With this… we may be able to stop the Reapers."

"If it was capable of stopping the Reapers then why didn't the Protheans use it?"

"I'm unsure. They may have not had time to complete it before they were wiped out."

"That's reassuring." She looks the plans over. "It's massive."

"It will take a great deal of people coming together to complete it." She hits a button on the computer, giving Traynor another angle of the weapon. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Simple but effective."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Shepard will find a way. He can be very persuasive. He's an expert diplomat. Sometimes I think he was meant to be an asari." She laughs dryly but Traynor doesn't know why. Traynor considers Shepard as an asari. Certainly he might appeal to her more then. If only diplomacy were an option against the Reapers. "He'll unite the galaxy."

"And if he doesn't?"

Liara smiles again, wryly. "Then we all die."

* * *

The hit is complete. Perfect. It will smooth things considerably for all parties involved… except the deceased. Liara delivers the packet of information as reward; the exchange is finished: a life for information. It will help the war effort and it will help Shepard. Liara won't tell him; he'd disagree but this is the right thing to do. Some asari are unwilling to understand that sometimes diplomacy isn't the answer. There is a need for efficiency. Sometimes the only solution is swift and brutal violence.

Liara looks up at the cerulean skies of the Citadel, the streaks of clouds across the sky. It's nothing like Illium. She misses it there. The Citadel is adequate. The sunlight may be artificial but she is happy to see it. Though she reasons people of the Citadel may take the war effort more seriously if their place for recreation weren't so inviting.

She has a drink of tea and pretends that Matriarch Aethyta isn't looking at her. Liara enjoys Apollo's Café for their selection of drinks and food but most for the freedom it affords her. She knows the asari government distrusts her because of Matriarch Benezia. Her…relation to Aethyta is convenient and Aethyta's apparent sympathy for her more so. She does not prefer to be cooped up in the small space that is her office aboard the Normandy. If she can work outside and have a guard at her back—all the better.

She reads several reports from reporting agents and mentally catalogues who hasn't. She will wait longer before she considers them lost. A shadow looms over her, cutting the light. Liara looks up to see Traynor, smiling and outlined in the sun's light. "Specialist Traynor." She looks back at her datapad and wonders if she should make an attempt at civility.

Traynor pulls back a chair and sits. Without asking. She holds what looks like an iced coffee beverage. "What a beautiful day," she says looking around contentedly. "It feels so good to get out and walk and stretch my legs. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed not living under constant mood lighting."

"Mood lighting?" Liara asks quizzically. She doesn't understand the reference. She looks at her, waiting for her to go away. She doesn't. "Sorry—did we arrange a meeting?" She's perfectly aware they haven't, but presenting it in a way that suggests Traynor is inconveniencing her would be a fine tactic to get her to go away.

Traynor ignores the question. "Have you gone to see Lieutenant-Commander Williams? Commander Shepard went straight there."

"I haven't." Liara says. What's the use? What will she do for her? They're not friends. "I'm sure the hospital staff is doing all they can." Traynor stares at her. "And she'll be back to fighting form in no time." What does she expect her to say?

"Oh. I assumed you were friends. You…did fight together against Saren, if I'm not mistaken. I've done some research."

"I see." She hasn't monitored Traynor's searches. Perhaps it's time she starts. Is she expected to be close to Ashley because she fought alongside of her? Hm. She hadn't known that was sufficient cause. No. They have never been friendly. Ashley is ignorant, happily so, it would seem and. No, that's reason enough. "Her recovery will be a boon to Shepard's focus."

"Right." There's something about her tone that suggests she isn't convinced. "Do you spend a lot of time on the Presidium, Dr. T'Soni? Do you have friends here?" She looks around. "I haven't seen you spend any time with anyone outside of Commander Shepard. And even that's rare."

"You've been watching me?"

"No more so than anyone else," she says with a small shrug. "But…you are interesting."

"Interesting?"

"You're an important ally to Commander Shepard. And you're highly secretive. So secretive…that I wonder if you're hiding something." Liara has a drink of tea. If Traynor thinks anything of her absence of response she doesn't appear bothered. "Do you like spending time alone?"

"I don't see how that's any of your concern."

"It isn't." She laughs softly. "You make it hard to get to know you. We're in a war that threatens the lives of billions. The numbers we've lost is frightening."

"I don't see what that has to do with getting to know me." Liara says. An impish smile touches Traynor's lips. Liara doesn't react but she doesn't like it. She remembers other asari having that same look on their faces when she was younger. She's being teased or mocked somehow. She doubts Traynor will call her a pureblood, will ridicule her family and if she tried—. Regardless, she's uncomfortable. "Well, what is it?"

"It's nothing. It's only—you remind me of some of the people I worked with in the lab. They'd never look at you or think of anything outside of their work. They were… awkward."

"Excuse me?" The presumption is bothersome. "Don't confuse my unwillingness to talk with you as awkwardness. I'm very busy. The war you're talking about? Every moment you distract me is an opportunity for the Reapers to gain an advantage or war assets to be lost."

"I didn't know you could do so much while flipping through a datapad and having tea," Traynor stands. "I'd wanted…" she shakes her head. "I am sorry to have interrupted you, Dr. T'soni. I'll leave you to it." She stands and leaves.

She's left her iced beverage. Liara picks it up and turns but Traynor has moved far out of range. Liara won't chase her down. If she's awkward then… well. Maybe she can be a little awkward. Has she always been so short with people? It's only that she's trying to get important business taken care of. She won't hold Specialist Traynor's hand because she's… what had her point been in getting to know her? No one ever tries to get to know her unless they want knowledge, information. Liara can't think of any that Traynor might want. It's puzzling.

Liara is still turned when her eyes catch Matriarch Aethyta's. Aethyta shakes her head at her though Liara isn't sure why. Has she been watching her the entire time? Liara scowls. It's rude to spy on others.

* * *

"What have you discovered in there?" Traynor asks. She circles EDI's new body. "Have you been able to access Eva Coré's information?" To think that EDI took control of a body that was as badly damaged as Eva's had been. Traynor supposes it isn't Eva anymore. "This is remarkable."

"Yes." EDI lifts a hand, flexing the fingers of her new body. "Aside from its sexual purposes this unit has great combat capabilities, as Lieutenant-Commander Williams can attest to."

Traynor grimaces at the casual way that EDI speaks about Ashley's condition. It's possible that being in the shell of the woman who put Ashley in the hospital may have something to do with her aversion. "You mean you can use this body in battle?"

"That's correct. It is resistant to extreme temperatures. Furthermore, I can harden the unit to be bullet resistant and download any number of programs to upgrade fighting capabilities."

"Remarkable," Traynor says again. EDI watches her every step, shifting her face in her direction. She's used to EDI's dulcet and sensual voice over the intercom. To hear it come from a lithe and attractive gynoid is…disconcerting. Traynor is aware enough to know that there hasn't been a time that EDI hasn't watched her. It hits her. "Wait… you said your new body was… erm… utilized for sexual purposes?"

"The Illusive Man and Cerberus created this unit to be multi-purpose." There's a beat. "That was a joke."

Traynor stares at her, lips parted. "Really…?"

"No. The Illusive Man was close to a woman named Eva Coré many years ago. She was an ally and lover before her death. This unit is named after her. It is capable of most human functions, including sexual intercourse. A review of video logs stored within this frame support this assertion."

"Oh." She doesn't know what to say or feel about it. She has heard EDI and Joker joke at the bridge. She heard Joker in CIC exclaim when EDI approached in her new body. How strange that an artificial intelligence and an android can be warmer, friendlier, more open than Dr. Liara T'Soni. It bothers her how much Liara bothers her. Why can't Liara be more like EDI? Or… why can't EDI be human? Or Asari…? "That's…"

The door to the AI core room opens and Liara strides inside. She looks first at Traynor and then at EDI, eyes narrowing. "There you are," she says.

"I am everywhere." EDI tells her but looks at Traynor. "There is an increasing trend in Normandy crew approaching this form despite my installation aboard this ship."

"Sometimes it's nice to have a face to talk to," Traynor says, "instead of ourselves or computer monitors." She feels Liara's gaze on her and wonders if Liara thinks she directed the slight towards her.

"Organics have a preoccupation and preference for the familiar," EDI returns.

Traynor is ready with a response when Liara jumps in. "Have you been able to access the Prothean data?" she looks EDI's form over, not so impressed as Traynor. "To think of the destruction this platform has been capable of." She crosses her arms and tilts her head thoughtfully. "Perhaps…that is fitting given its host. Cerberus certainly seems intent on enabling their demise."

"May I help you, Dr. T'Soni?" EDI asks.

EDI's voice borders on sharp. Traynor is aware something has happened but isn't sure what and doesn't know how to ask. "I'd like whatever you've uncovered sent to my terminals for analysis. The purpose of salvaging Dr. Coré's unit was the Prothean data it might provide not an excuse for you to leave the Normandy."

"EDI's a social creature," Traynor is unsure why Liara is acting like such a bitch. Has she always been this way? She doesn't strike her as the sort Commander Shepard would befriend. Then again, the man is capable of charming snakes. "If she wants to go out I see little problem with it. She's contributed more than enough to the Normandy and the safety of its crew."

Liara's face is unreadable.

"Thank you, Samantha." EDI says. She looks at Liara. "The information you've requested has been transferred. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe Jeff is waiting for me on the bridge. He pouts when I'm 'gone' for too long."

Traynor watches her exit, in awe of her form and grace with which the unit moves, the swing of her hips. She needs a girlfriend.

"You're staring."

The door to the AI core unit shuts and Traynor recovers. It's fitting that EDI emerged from this room—in many ways, it's the place of her birth. If…artificial intelligence could be birthed. "You could stand to be nicer, you know."

"I'm sorry," she doesn't sound sorry at all, only perplexed, "is there a problem?"

"You were rude to EDI. Where did this attitude of yours come from? You say 'jump' and you expect people to ask 'how high'. I've met a few scientists like you but not _quite_ like you, not quite so demanding and entitled."

Liara's eyes burn with what is sure to be a heated response. But whatever it is she swallows it. "That unit initiated a massacre at the Mars archives not long ago. It tried to kill me. It would have killed Shepard if it could have and it nearly killed Ashley. If you think my greeting 'rude' surely you can understand why given the circumstances."

"I suppose…if you put it that way." Traynor takes a breath. She knows how many still distrusts AIs and synthetics. She hadn't known (and still doesn't, she supposes) if Liara is amongst those. "Still, EDI has proven herself." She isn't sure if Liara rolls her eyes. Liara knows more than she's letting on but is in no rush to fill her in on the details. Traynor exits the AI core with Liara beside her. "You sound like someone used to getting her way."

"I am."

"You'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

"That expression is only relevant to those with a poor rate of success. I don't fail."

"And you're arrogant too. You just keep getting better and better."

"Arrogance implies that I'm exaggerating."

"Mh." Traynor stops at the door to the med-bay suddenly. Liara nearly runs into her. Traynor studies her in the dim light. Her eyes are the lightest, clearest blue that Traynor has ever seen. Flawless. Her clothing marks her a scientist. She wonders what Liara is like in battle. Is she heated? Is she precise? Does she get angry? Is she a good fighter? "I heard that you're the one responsible for bringing Commander Shepard back."

"Did you happen to 'hear' that from EDI?"

Yes. "Is it true?"

"Officially it was the Lazarus Project run by Miranda Lawson and Cerberus. The Illusive Man paid for the reconstruction. Their methods are questionable and extreme but sometimes you have little choice."

"What was your role?"

"I retrieved Shepard's body." Her voice falters on 'body'. She averts her eyes, narrowed and thoughtful before returning them to Traynor. She straightens and lifts her chin slightly. It makes her look arrogant but stunning. "The Shadow Broker planned to give his body to the Collectors. I wasn't going to let him."

"The Shadow Broker?" Traynor has heard the title but knows next to nothing about who the individual might be. What is clear is the danger it poses to cross him. "That was…very brave of you. Was it difficult?"

There's a beat of silence. "It got done."

"And to think… if you hadn't dared to do the impossible…where would we be today? It terrifies me to think about it." What would the war against the Reapers be without Commander Shepard? Who could stand against them? Who could try to unite the races of the galaxy but him? Would they be doomed to fail? She can't think of anyone else who's half as convincing, motivating, who is half the soldier he is. Shepard has managed to do the impossible over and over again. And maybe he'll succeed once more and save them all. "I didn't think you and the Commander were so close."

"We aren't." She takes a breath and closes her eyes briefly. "But we've known each other for a time. We don't always keep in touch but I respect him. He's a good man. The world needs him."

"Doing what you did… did it come at a cost?"

A flicker of doubt crosses her face. "It had to be done."

"It sounds like the galaxy owes you one hell of a thank-you." Traynor lifts the back of her fingers to Liara's face. Her skin is cool and soft. Moments later Traynor feels warmth on Liara's cheeks. She isn't so hard now with the cold slipping away. "Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?" she asks softly.

"How…" Liara blinks. "I—ah—what are—what are you doing?" Liara steps back from her. Traynor arches her eyebrows, surprised at the nervous outburst. Liara brings a hand to her face where Traynor's fingers were. "I thought we were talking about—I don't quite recall what it is we were talking about." She admits. She laces her fingers and paces. Traynor follows her movements with confusion and amusement. "I have—there's. Goddess." She brings a hand to her forehead. "I…have work to do," she excuses herself, leaving Traynor in the medbay, flummoxed.

"All right…" Traynor breathes to herself. "What the hell just happened?"

EDI comes over the intercom. "You experienced a failed attempt at courtship."

Courtship? That wasn't— She bites her tongue. _Maybe_ she was flirting but—"Thanks, EDI," Traynor mutters. "Was that a joke?"

"Yes. It was."

Traynor can hear the laughter in her tone. Great. Now she's being mocked by the AI. Traynor exits the medbay and looks at Liara's office door. She could try to talk to her—maybe apologize… but what can she say? What sort of reaction is that anyway? Liara acts as if she's some schoolgirl who's never been flirted with. How can that be? She's over a hundred years old. Maybe it's only Traynor's presence that Liara finds a nuisance.

Traynor goes to the crew quarters and lies down on her small bunk bed. She tries to read but can't focus. Liara has proved more interesting than she could have imagined. She thinks of the stammering, awkward woman in the medbay and smiles.


	2. Business

A/N: Holy crap. All this positive feedback was so unexpected! Thanks guys! I am floored. And now pressured. I hope you enjoy this second chapter.

* * *

"I've accessed all her personnel records and history," Liara tells Shepard. Shepard pauses, the speared piece of steak halfway to his mouth. A glance from Liara and he resumes eating. "She joined the Alliance for financial reasons. They paid for her schooling." She muses. "Did you know?" Shepard nods, digging his fork into the creamy mashed potatoes in front of him. He offers her a bite but she waves him away. "And here I thought I was enlightening you. You've accessed her records as well."

"Can't say that I did."

"Then how—"

"I did it the old fashioned way. I asked."

Liara doesn't like the way he grins at her. She shifts in her chair. Why can she never come to Apollo's café without being interrupted? Should she feel embarrassed? The network gives her a clearer picture than any meandering responses might. Nor does it lie. Liara is happy for paper and digital trails. She considers telling him some of the more amusing things that she found in Traynor's records, remarks left by some professors who found her to be too smart mouthed but doesn't think he'd find the humor. Shepard is sometimes painfully limited by his ideals. He prefers to do things the hard way. "In any case… I found it strange that she's aboard the Normandy."

"Specialist Traynor has been a big help," Shepard says. Liara scoffs. "She may not have signed up for this but she's done one hell of a job."

"She's a scientist, not a soldier."

"So were you." Shepard takes a long drink of his beer, his eyes twinkling, "but we kept you around."

"She's a nuisance," she says exasperated. Liara hoped Shepard would be on her side. Specialist Samantha Traynor doesn't limit herself to the CIC. Liara supposes it's reasonable that she move about the ship on her off hours but lately her presence is more aggravating than usual. Their last conversation left her confused. What was Traynor's purpose in touching her or—or asking if she knew how beautiful she was? Was the question rhetorical…? And if it wasn't…? She's distracting. "Maybe she should stay here while she can."

"Drop it, Liara." Shepard cuts into his steak. "What's gotten into you? I don't remember you ever being this wound up." Liara picks up her datapad and looks through the incoming messages from her agents. Oh good. She hasn't lost all of them. "And another thing—I don't want you using the network to spy on our people. They're working for us, busting their ass every day. They deserve some respect and privacy." Liara fires a few emails off, arranging new assignments, carefully assessing which information she'll provide so that the balance of power isn't tipped. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, of course," she picks up her tea and begins to prioritize assignments on the datapad.

"What did I say?" He asks. Liara stares at him. Any amusement he'd held previously has waned. "What's gotten into you? You weren't like this before."

"I don't remember being any other way. Anyway…we knew each other a long time ago. Long for you, anyway. Things change." People change. Truthfully she doesn't know to what he refers. She's always been diligent about her work and her studies. The Crucible was a much-needed break and now she has her people trying to dig up any information they can. It takes time they don't have. Shepard doesn't understand that. In some ways, she doesn't want him to. The last thing everyone needs is for him to take a principled stand that will interfere with the mission. "Relax, Shepard."

"I could say the same to you. We're on shore leave."

"I'm not a soldier. I don't get shore leave."

"You could stand to relax." He finishes the rest of his steak, downing the food by polishing off the rest of the beer. Shepard crosses his arms on the table and leans forward. "I've got some good news." Liara cheers. They could use some good news. Have they figured out a faster way to build the Crucible or unlocked more of its capabilities? It seems impossible that Shepard would know before she does—has her network failed? "You see that woman over there?" He nods his head to Matriarch Aethyta. "That's your mother. Or—father? Whatever. She wants to talk to you. Get to know you. She loves you."

"Oh." She's disappointed. "Yes, I know. It's 'father', by the way, though I know you humans would refer to Aethyta as my second mother. But that isn't how it works."

Shepard leans back into his chair. His disappointment is palpable. She's ruined his surprise. "You know? You sit here every time we come to the Citadel. I remember years ago… you hadn't known what happened. I thought you'd be…excited."

"Mh. It's certainly convenient. If the asari government wants to watch me, let them. They've assumed that I'm another Benezia but really I'm much more dangerous than that. I prefer it if they underestimate me. While Aethyta is my 'handler' I'm much safer than if I were under the watch of someone unrelated, someone who felt nothing for me."

Shepard sighs. "You've spent too much time alone. With research, with computers, with your network. If I'd been able to go with you to topple him—the Shadow Broker. Would that have made a difference?"

"I'm not sure. But it's done, Shepard. I don't spend my time thinking 'what if'. We're all lucky that I'm in the position I'm in." She glances over at Aethyta who is wiping a glass and watching her. She quickly looks away when her eyes catch Liara's. "It was thoughtful of you to want to tell me."

"Won't you talk to her?"

"Why? We don't know each other."

"She's the only family you have." Shepard stresses. "What are you waiting for?" Liara picks up the datapad but Shepard yanks it out of her hand and sets it down on the table. "Come on. Are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid," Liara says defensively. Leave it to Shepard to pick emotion over the tactical course. Humans have always been overly emotional, too often led by feelings than by reasoning. Specialist Samantha Traynor had touched her face, told her she was beautiful despite Liara's somewhat reserved behavior previously. And all for what? Because she felt pity for her? She doesn't want pity.

"Go talk to her."

Liara picks up her datapad. "Fine." If it will get him off her back and let her get back to work she'll do anything. Maybe she needs to move to another location on the Presidium. She begins the walk over to Aethyta and realizes that she isn't afraid; she's petrified.

* * *

"What is it, human?" Javik asks, his back turned towards her.

Ah, there's a cheerful greeting. Traynor sighs inwardly. The Prothean is new aboard the Normandy and he is about as friendly as Liara. She's happy that most Normandy crew has had experiences with aliens in the past. The ones currently onboard, Wrex, Javik and Liara might prove an unrepresentative sample. "Hello, Javik. I've come to see how you're settling in." She looks around the bare, depressing room.

"I am alive. That quality is becoming rarer by the day. I do not understand how your primitive species has survived as long as it has with your limited technology. Perhaps the Reapers are weaker in this cycle."

His four eyes focus on her when she comes closer, his lips drawn downward in a frown. His fingers move over the water. "And you use this as a form of communication?" she asks. "That's…amazing. I'd love to know how it works."

"There is no point in explaining. Your limited capabilities would not allow you to understand." Javik looks at her for several long seconds. "You are more intelligent than the majority of your species," he tells her thoughtfully. "But your intelligence remains insufficient. I cannot believe that you are the dominant race in this time. You humans and asari." His disgust is evident. "I hope that you are not here like the asari to ask meaningless questions."

"Meaningless questions?" Has Liara been visiting Javik? Traynor wonders how well her theories and studies matched up. It must be unbelievably exciting to have Javik aboard. A real Prothean! If there is a time for one to resurface, now is that time. "What has she been asking?"

"Some questions about our war with the Reapers," he says somewhat resentfully, "but other questions about our dining habits and worship practices," his expression, that Traynor had not known could sour further, sours further. "To think that her species could come so far and she is the paramount of their achievement. I mourn for the future."

"She devoted a great deal of time of her life to you. Erm—to your race."

"A wasted effort. The past is gone. It is time to focus on now and the future. I would like to look at her papers and make corrections. The Commander told me she devoted half of her life to the study of my people. Fool asari."

"That's unfair." She shrinks back without meaning to when he turns his heated eyes on her. "To _be_ fair…your race had been dead for 50,000 years. All things considered… from what I've read, she wasn't entirely wrong."

"The only thing she got right was that we existed." He takes a step toward her and then another. Traynor leans back far enough that her hand dips into the water where he was working. He looks at the water and at her. "You are another nuisance, like her."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately." Teach her to be friendly! She wipes the water off on her pant leg and wonders if she's ruined anything he might have been working on.

"And you have still not learned to not intrude. Another mark of your inferiority. Evolve faster. You have had 50,000 years." Javik narrows his eyes on her. "Are you here to speak for her?"

Traynor doesn't know what he means. "Actually….I'm here to ask if you'd like a bed to lay in. Or some furniture." She looks around. "I'm filling out requisitions—"

"Pointless extravagance."

"So that's a no to the bed? Noted." She makes a note in her datapad. "And I can't say that I know what 'her' you're talking about." Ashley has recently left the hospital but now she's a Spectre. EDI, perhaps? Liara is capable of asking her own questions. They barely speak. She wonders if she ought to try to speak to her more often. Liara is often brusque with her but Traynor remembers her faint smile, the way she'd blushed. How can she be so terrible and adorable in one?

"You know who I am talking about. You're thinking of her, even now." Javik looks at her with contempt. "If your aim is to care for an asari then you should set your sights on Aria T'Loak. She may work with strippers but she is a capable woman."

Traynor tries to figure out how he could possibly know what she was thinking. Aria T'Loak… didn't she run Omega? It's hard to imagine herself with someone like that. Though…the woman is attractive. "I don't know—" he glowers and she falters, "well… you were just talking about Liara," she says.

"You have been thinking of her for days. You are uncertain whether you like or dislike her. You give her too much thought but you are indecisive. Sort out your feelings," he demands and turns back to the water.

Traynor exits, thinking that she ought to stop thinking visits to others rooms will be short and sweet.

* * *

Cerberus agents were coming from every angle. She'd put up the best barriers that she could but the fighting was rigorous and she was exhausted. The bullets ripped through the weakened shields, through her arm and shoulder. The pain was excruciating.

Worst yet, she tore her jacket.

Now she must bear the insufferable Dr. Chakwas who is subjecting her to scores of tests. "Will this be much longer?" Liara snaps. "This isn't the first time I've been shot. Goddess. Put some medigel on it and let's be done with it."

"Patience, Liara," Chakwas scans her with the omnitool and looks over the readings. "Believe me, you've got more time left than I do. Commander Shepard insisted I be thorough. I wouldn't want to let you go until you've been cleared."

Liara contains a cry of frustration. She's ready to jump off the medbay table and leave when Traynor enters with a bottle of scotch held high. Liara forgets what she was thinking.

"I've got it!" Traynor says triumphantly. "Took a while. You should have seen the shitty hand I had. Luckily I know how to bluff—" She stops short. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't know you were—" Her eyes fall to Liara, who pulls the jacket over her lap, fingering the ripped, bloody fabric. "Dr. T'Soni—are you all right?"

"Perfectly," Liara tells the jacket.

"She'll be fine," Chakwas tells Traynor, nearly causing Liara to question why she's been detained so long. "But I'm afraid our drinking will have to wait." She keys some notes into her omnitool and looks Liara over. Liara crosses her arms and stifles a cry of pain. "However, I do have a few things to take care of and I could use a quick bite to eat. You'll keep her here until I return, won't you? She's dying to get away."

"I come for a drink and get stuck babysitting petulant asari?" Traynor asks with a sigh.

Petulant asari…? The woman has a lot of nerve. Liara doesn't want to be left alone with her. "I don't need looking after. Especially by the likes of you."

"Well…when you put it that way, how can I resist?" She says lightly. She looks at Chakwas."I suppose I can manage guard duty if it won't be for too long."

"You have my thanks," Chakwas takes the bottle of scotch and sets it aside. "No getting drunk in the medbay," she warns them before exiting.

The doors have no sooner closed when Liara is trying to get down from the bed. She grimaces. "Whoa… slow down," Traynor takes hold of her arms, keeping her situated. Liara glares at her. She looks away when Traynor smiles back. "What's the big hurry, Doctor?" Traynor leans close, fingers brushing near the cuts.

"I have work to do." She pays close attention to the bronze fingers gliding along her skin. Her stomach churns, her face warming. It's happening again. Traynor literally makes her sick. Perhaps Chakwas' infernal tests will return illuminating results.

"You've been shot."

"It's nothing." She winces when Traynor touches near her enflamed, bruised skin. Traynor mumbles an apology but her hands remain on her arms. Does she know she's doing that? Is Traynor as painfully aware of the contact as she is? "Chakwas is only—well, honestly I don't know why she's keeping me here."

"Can you blame her if she can get away with it?" Traynor laughs softly. Liara nearly asks what strikes her as humorous but doesn't want to encourage any more ridicule. "I don't think I've ever seen you without this jacket on." She looks at her bare arms. "I guess you aren't surgically attached to it after all."

"What? No." Did she think that? Traynor's standing within arm's reach. Too close. "Anyway, it's ruined now," she says sadly. The jacket has been with her longer than many people.

Traynor picks it up from her lap. "That's nonsense. It just needs a few stitches," she cocks a smile at Liara that unbalances her. Liara holds the edge of the bed cautiously. "If you're not opposed—I'll give it a little TLC and return it to you good as new."

"I couldn't let you—"

"I insist. Fair warning—I'm pretty stubborn. It'll be quicker for you to just nod and smile." Traynor says looking the jacket over. "As for the blood… I'm sure there are a few tricks available for that too." She looks at her. Liara tries to think of a good complaint. She would like to have the jacket fixed. "Though I'm sure they're not half-so elusive as the trick to getting smiles out of you."

Liara is flabbergasted. "Well… I… can't say," she says awkwardly. Another smile from Traynor and Liara feels her face heat again. This is maddening. Where is Chakwas? "Listen, why not make yourself useful and get me some medigel? If you hadn't arrived I might already be out of here. You do know how to apply it, don't you?"

"I am in the Alliance," Traynor tsks, setting the jacket down beside Liara and moving to the first aid station to retrieve several packets. "You must think me terribly dimwitted—"

"Not at all. Your aptitude scores are remarkable. Frankly, it is my opinion that you are wasted on the Alliance." When Traynor comes closer Liara takes hold of her jacket, a safety net.

"My aptitude scores, hm? I don't recall talking to you about those." Traynor says thoughtfully. Liara waits for the question but it doesn't come. Traynor rips the top off the packaging, spreading the salve on her fingers before applying it to the wound on Liara's arm. The gel is icy against her skin before warming. Liara bites her tongue as her skin pulls itself back together. "In your opinion where should I be?"

"Cerberus would have been a good fit. Prior to all of this." No matter how the Alliance denounces Cerberus the truth is that their methods are what kept colonies safe, what brought Shepard back. Some detestable means are acceptable sometimes when meeting an end.

"Cerberus? Who just shot you? Didn't you kill a good twenty of their agents only hours ago? Tell me how you really feel."

Liara frowns. That isn't at all what she meant. How obnoxious. "Or…you could have been an information broker."

"Me?" She laughs. "I suppose I would be good at it. No argument there. But I like my work," she rips another medigel packet open and without asking, promptly applies it to Liara's shoulder. Liara hisses unwittingly and leans forward. Traynor's hand presses to her chest, holding her in place or at bay. Liara isn't sure. Traynor's remarkably close with no indication of backing away. "Just like ripping a band-aid off," she says. Liara focuses on the fire in her shoulder, the medigel working to stich her back to normal. "I…suppose I don't have quite the bedside manner that Chakwas does. Not here, anyway," she ducks her chin. Liara is unsure if she sees a hint of a smile on her lips. Why is she looking for them? "Are you all right, Doctor?"

"Yes." A beat. "You should give some warning before you do that."

"Sorry. I didn't know I was sneaking you medi-gel _after_ you asked me to get it." Traynor says blithely. Her fingers continue to massage the medi-gel into place. Liara sighs softly. Another smile is pulled from Traynor. "You're tense." Liara has no response but to use her fingertips to pull her jacket closer. "Is it because you're peeking into my personnel files without permission?" Liara hates how her face heats, giving her guilt away. "Well…if you're going to blush like that I don't think I'd mind if you kept peeking."

Her face grows hotter. "I— it's just—the medi-gel," Liara stammers. She's only embarrassed that she gave herself away. She's accustomed to being untraceable. To have been so foolish with her words is—amateur.

"Does it hurt?"

"Ah—no. I mean, yes. I've just been shot."

"You'll be back to tip-top shape in no time," Traynor trails her fingers down her arm. Moments later the fleeting touch is gone. Liara is unsure how to feel of its absence. "In fact, you're looking better already." Their eyes lock and Liara's mouth goes dry. Traynor doesn't make any effort to create distance when Chakwas returns. "You return. And here I was getting used to guard duty. I must admit, she charmed me into treating her with medi-gel."

"Charmed?" Chakwas goes to them, looking between the two. Liara takes a breath and makes her face expressionless. Chakwas laughs softly. "I wouldn't have put you on guard duty if I thought she was capable of charming you. Anyway, let's finish the tests. Believe it or not, Liara, I'm not keeping you here to torture you."

"Why are you keeping me here?"

"The tests, of course. Why else? Oh, it'd be lovely for us to talk like we used to, years ago. Her room used to be right over there," Chakwas tells Traynor, inclining her head to the door of the AI core. "But all of that seems so long ago now."

Liara doesn't know why she feels sad. She wishes Chakwas or Shepard wouldn't talk about her as if she were broken or somehow inferior to the person that she used to be. Her life on Prothean study was wasted. She was naïve and foolish. Is that what they'd have her cling to? "Let's just finish," she says quietly. She blinks when the jacket slips away from her fingers.

Traynor holds on to it. "I'm counting on you to take care of her," she tells Chakwas before turning back to Liara. "When I've fixed this, I'll return at some terribly inconvenient hour to deliver it to you. In the meantime you're free of my vexing presence." She winks and exits. Liara looks after her. Traynor makes her feel peculiar and warm.

"Your heartbeat is accelerating, Liara." The glee in Chakwas' voice is clear. Liara crosses her arms and vows not to move. "Well then, since you got Traynor to play nurse for you, you're all finished."

Liara blinks. Finished so quickly? What waits past that door is… well. What if she runs into Traynor again? She's unsure how to behave around her. Speaking of… "Is there anything abnormal in the tests? I've been feeling… flush and… dizzy? My medical history is superb. I'm afraid I don't understand..."

"Your tests are all clean."

"But that doesn't make sense."

"If I may ask, how often do you feel this way?"

"I'm not sure. It comes and goes. Usually with Specialist Traynor's presence," she says as an aside and glowers towards the door as if the look will injure her if she glares hard enough.

Chakwas laughs and slaps Liara's arm. "You kill me. You really do. Get out of here, Liara. You're all done."

"But…" What of her answers? She asked a serious question!

Chakwas, still laughing, pushes her out the door. Useless woman.

* * *

She'll never find the Cision Pro Mark 4 toothbrush again. Traynor mourns its loss. If only the Reapers hadn't attacked to threaten the extinction of all organic life… she might still have that marvel of a brush to massage her gums. She tries not to think of her parents. She succeeds only seconds and begins to consider what different data extrapolation methods she might use to reach them. Is Earth on fire…?

She wanders the Presidium and stops in the game store. The Citadel makes her feel like normality and hope can exist. Even if she must acknowledge that she likely doesn't have a home anymore. _Or parents? _No… she just hasn't found them yet. Or her friends. Panic settles in. She purchases a small, travel-sized chess set, small enough for living out of a shoebox. She bemoans the lack of room in the crew quarters and the crappy showers.

Liara has a large room with all manner of fascinating equipment that the wretched woman won't let her look at. What is that Glyph thing for? Why so much secrecy? Aren't they all fighting the same battle? Her stomach rumbles and she tries to recall the last time that she ate. She's near Apollo's Café. She goes to the bar, takes a seat and sets her small bag aside. A menu appears on the bartop and she scrolls through it undecided on a heavier or lighter meal.

"Are you going to sit there all day or are you going to make up your mind?"

Traynor looks up. The asari bartender looks taken aback. Traynor turns behind her but sees nothing out of the ordinary. "I had planned on taking a few minutes to look the menu over," she tells her, "but I can plan to do that somewhere else."

"Don't get your panties in a twist," the asari pours a shot, hot pink in color and slides it over to her. "If you wear any." Traynor barely stops it before it slides off the bar. Well… all righty. Speaking to a stranger about her underwear hadn't been on the agenda today. "On the house. …Are you aboard the Normandy?" Traynor arches an eyebrow unsure of how she can know a thing like that. Not many know that she serves on that particular ship. "Happen to know a pain in the ass asari?"

"I know someone who fits that description," she takes hold of the shot, lifts it. "Cheers." She drinks. It's surprisingly strong. She blinks and licks her lips delicately. They exchange introductions. "How do you know Dr. T'Soni?"

"Can't say that I really _know_ her. Kind of hard when she limits most conversations to the kind of tea she'll have. Tea!" she says derisively. "Little brat turned out just like her mother. Me, I'll always take a good drink to some damn tea."

Traynor wonders if she and Liara are related. It would be rude to ask. Oh, but she really wants to know. "I haven't seen her today."

"Probably off somewhere making trouble for somebody," she says with a wistful smile. "Makes me damned proud. I saw you the other day. When you were here with her?" How had Aethyta recalled such a thing? "I've seen jellyfish with more self-awareness."

Traynor isn't sure if she's referring to herself or Liara. More pressing questions arise. "Jellyfish? Erm—do you mean hanar?"

"No, damn it, I don't mean hanar," Aethyta scowls. She yanks back the second shot Traynor was bringing to her lips. "I have a girl who's half hanar. Smarter than a gaggle of you humans combined," she says with a dismissive wave.

"Sorry," Traynor stammers, "I didn't mean—"

"Goddess." Traynor turns sharply at Liara's voice. A moment later Liara leans against the bar, folding her bare arms on the counter. Traynor reminds herself to hold on to the jacket for some time longer. Covering those arms is a sin. Liara looks from Aethyta to Traynor. "Must you follow me everywhere?"

Traynor opens her mouth to protest when Aethyta shoots Liara a look. "Hard to follow someone anywhere when they get there before you. Were you always this self-absorbed or is it the information broker gig that's brought it on?"

Liara looks testily to her. "You're not helping. I'm not self-absorbed. It's just—I keep running into her."

"So stop following her," Aethyta slides the drink back to Traynor who drinks eagerly. The conversation is both mortifying and endlessly entertaining. "Have you ever had a drink in your life?" she asks Liara. "You need to loosen up or get laid. Why not start with this one?" she inclines her head to Traynor who proceeds to choke on the drink.

"How dare you?" Liara seethes.

Why not start with her? "Dr. T'Soni would sooner kill me than bed me."

"Yes!" Liara's features briefly awash in relief. "Thank you."

"You let her call you 'Dr. T'Soni'?" Aethyta asks Liara. She seems to find the title most offensive of all. Once again she's shaking her head. "Well, la dee fucking dah. You take yourself too seriously, kid. It's no wonder you don't have any damn fun at all. Maybe if you pull that stick out of your ass you can put it to some good use."

Liara's face turns as purple as Aethyta's face. Traynor isn't sure if it's from rage or humiliation. Either way, it seems like a good time to make an exit.

"This looks like…family business?" Traynor backs away slowly from the stool she sits on. Is Aethyta Liara's mother? Father? How does that work? She isn't sure. It wasn't anything mentioned in any of the news articles or school biographies she'd read. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Aethyta. Erm- Dr. T'Soni…" she nods her head and moves on her way, happy to be free of the two of them. And to have received two shots on the house. Now the question is where she'll eat. Purgatory has some greasier options to offset any heavy drinking…

Not a minute has passed when Liara falls into step beside her. The flush has gone from Liara's face. Traynor smiles. "Is that woman—"

"Shut up. Don't say anything," Liara takes the steps up to the upper level quickly. She clasps Traynor's hand in her own for an instant before releasing it. "Keep up. They've seen us talking."

"Is there any particular reason for your unreasonably sketchy behavior or—"

"I told you not to say anything," Liara whispers viciously. Her hand drops to her side and Traynor realizes that they're being followed. There are three of them, a woman and two men, asari, drell, human.

"Who are they?" Traynor asks quietly. Liara doesn't answer. She heads towards the apartments and takes Traynor's hand again. Traynor looks down at their laced fingers and realizes with great vexation that she's left her chessboard at the café. And that she is likely to be killed by something that isn't the Reapers. "If you wanted to hold hands—"

Liara pulls her up another set of stairs and to an unknown apartment door. She bypasses the security on the door with frightening ease and enters the space with Traynor after her. She shuts the door and moves around the room. Traynor knows what she's doing— surveying the room, memorizing the layout with deadly focus. "What's going on?" Traynor asks.

"Perks of the job," Liara undoes the belt from the holster at her side. Traynor wonders how she got a side arm past C-Sec. It isn't the one that she typically takes into fights. This one came from somewhere else—from preparation. It was planted. "Don't worry. I have a handle on this. I only came in here to minimize some of the mess."

"The mess?"

The door to the room slides open. In the next instant the asari is floating in the air and hurled out the glass wall with frightening force. Glass explodes in every direction. Traynor hears the shrieks of the asari for only a moment before they disappear into the endless expanse of sky. The drell readies his attack. He lunges but stops mid-motion, frozen in place.

Two seconds haven't passed since the attackers entered. Liara turns her attention and gun to the remaining agent. He's sweating. So is Traynor. Liara's eyes are cold but she's smiling. "The advent of the Reaper War isn't enough for you to drop your petty vendetta against me. You saw what I did to your asari," she holds the gun to his forehead, "call your men off and I may let you walk out of here," she nods at his omni-tool. "Go on."

"How do I know you won't shoot me?" he asks.

"You don't." Liara says. Traynor wishes she hadn't run into her. Behind Liara the drell is blinking, getting some sense of movement back, however slowly.

"You sold us out," the human says, his voice shaking.

"I provided information, just as I've provided it to your group before. It's business. You understand business. Call off your men," she repeats, voice hardened.

"Fuck this," his hand drops to the weapon at his side.

Liara shoots. The bullet tears through his head, blasting a chunk of brain to the wall. She turns and meets the drell, pulling up a barrier to stop the kick that would snap her neck if it hit. She swings him to the wall with a flush of biotic power and calmly walks up to him. He slides to the floor. "Will you call your men off?" she asks. He glares in response. This time she pulls the trigger twice.

Traynor is paralyzed.

"I used to be an information broker on Illium," Liara explains as if it were a reasonable explanation. She stoops beside the dead human's omni-tool and types out a message before sending it. A minute later and she's downloaded what she deems is the necessary data from the omni-tool. "Nothing is illegal in Illium." She rises. "Everywhere else is more…complicated."

Traynor looks at the lifeless drell and human, at the puddles of blood. Liara has escaped without a drop of blood on her. Traynor has gone from immobilized to trembling. Liara goes to her, steps measured and sure, head held high. She eases an errant lock of hair behind Traynor's ear, touch grazing. "There," she says.


	3. For Science

A/N: What consistent story tone. Sorry guys, this is all over the place. Serious and then humorous and then ridiculous and back to serious. Whoops. Don't anticipate that stopping in future chapters. Thanks for all the awesome reviews! What is happening. I honestly didn't think anyone was going to be reading this story. But I'm glad you are! Thanks to Fixative for finding my errors in this- and generally encouraging me to write Liara and Traynor.

* * *

Specialist Samantha Traynor has been absent.

Liara searches for streams in an ocean's worth of data that filters in every moment. Her eyes hurt. Hours of darkness and monitors will do that. She sits on the chair in her office. She takes notes. She sends messages. She saves some lives. Others she ends. All in key strokes. One doesn't give her more pleasure than the other. All lives are strangers. Every delivery of information is the equivalent of a play in chess. It's all in the pursuit of moving forward and achieving victory.

This is her part in the war effort. This is deadlier than any biotic flush or pulling of a trigger. She is omniscient. She isn't a God—but she is all knowing, elusive, and she has supreme power over a great deal of life and death. Only the Reapers surpass her in power. And perhaps the Illusive Man. She smiles wryly at the unholy trinity.

Traynor's face glistened with perspiration. Her fingers trembled. Liara held them for moments and observed that Traynor's eyes couldn't stay on her. "You should get out of here." Liara released her. "I'll take care of it."

Liara had, relaying the necessary messages to C-Sec with parcels of information revealing the ill nature of the men; men who many would agree are better dead than alive. It is the nature of most to think of concrete answers without thinking of the families that lose loved ones. No one wants to think that the men and women are parents, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. Brands are easier. She has a wealth of information to provide many brands.

Liara searches Traynor's outgoing communications. There is no mention of the incident. If she had verbalized any of what occurred she's sure EDI would have made a point to broadcast it to the ship. She has said nothing. Probing questions are important but sometimes their tedium gets in the way of what needs to be done.

Her thoughts wander.

When Samantha left the apartment in the Citadel she asked no questions and left without goodbye, without turning around.

Liara's turned from the closing of the door and down to her boot, steeped in blood.

* * *

It's different when it's data. Dots disappearing on an otherwise static screen don't compare to blood running fresh. Blood has a smell when there's so much of it. Traynor remembers. Liara tenderly tucked hair behind her ear while her gun still smoked.

Traynor commends Commander Shepard and Lieutenant James Vega when they return onboard. She nods briefly at Liara before focusing on the computer terminal. She pays little attention to Liara to cover the fact that she can't stop thinking about her.

She buries herself in work and stays up too late decrypting encrypted feeds of data. Late at night she plays chess matches on a dated gui chess application. She wins often enough that it bores her. She shifts her attention to old literary classics, most from Earth but some translated turian and asari works.

She wonders how Shepard and the rest of the crew can fight the way they do and still return and seem normal. Is she weak? Is she a scientist pretending to be a soldier? Would she freeze in the midst of battle? Would she get others killed? The only bullets she's ever fired have been at targets. The recoil made her flinch.

She lays in bed, propped against the growingly thin pillow, pale orange light from the datapad warming her face. Her eyes are beginning to close when a message pops up on her screen.

_I'd like my jacket back._

Traynor reads the five words several times before stuffing the datapad beneath her pillow and turning in for the night.

* * *

The room is terribly dark. Liara traces Traynor's silhouette with her eyes. She concludes that Traynor's presence is an attempt to avoid her; Liara normally meets with Shepard during this time to discuss intelligence. Color and light wash over Traynor in waves.

The door shuts behind Liara but she doesn't move. Traynor finally notices her. What does Traynor see when she looks at her? "Spying on me again?" Liara asks.

"Funny accusation, all things considered. I have my job for a reason. I know when someone's monitoring and intercepting data. Why _have_ you been spying on me?"

"It's my job. I keep track of everything." Liara allows a beat. "You're no exception." She walks closer, aware of how Traynor's eyes follow her. Liara sits by a terminal and crosses one leg over the other. She settles an elbow on the table, resting her face in the palm of her hand.

"Was it interesting reading?"

"Not particularly."

Traynor looks at the panel of monitors. Her breathing appears even. Liara realizes that she has been so fixated on Traynor's face that she failed to notice her wearing her jacket. The detail makes Liara uncomfortable and hot. She doesn't move a muscle as Traynor delicately shrugs it from her shoulders. The material ripples from her body. Liara doesn't breathe.

"I've fixed this for you." Traynor holds it out as if it were a scepter capable of transferring power. In a way, it is.

Liara stands. She takes the jacket. She slips into it, home again. She breathes. Even in the darkness, Traynor's eyes are a vortex. Liara smoothes the fabric until it is free of creases.

"How does it feel?" Traynor asks quietly. Her hands seize the lapels of the jacket, further straightening it into place before the pressure of her contact slips away entirely. Their gaze locks.

It's been over a decade since Liara has wanted to kiss anyone. It isn't immediately identifiable. "It's…" flawless, "adequate." She turns away from her and sits, grateful for the darkness. "Thank you."

* * *

Traynor dreams of Liara coming to her bed in the middle of the night, crawling over her before joining their mouths.

She wakes, frustrated. Cold showers are only a temporary solution to the fever that has gripped her. She doubts she's sick. Does Liara think she's boring? It bothers her. She can be exciting. Why… she's a master chess player and she can decrypt data like a pro! And on Earth and her old home in Horizon she could show Liara her collection of vintage board games… some of them in their original packaging!

All right. Maybe she's not the most exciting individual in the galaxy, especially given the company Liara keeps. What kind of person is Liara? And what kind of person is she? How is she both afraid and intrigued by Liara? It couldn't have anything to do with her looks, not at all. Or any loneliness. Not entirely, anyway.

Maybe the stress of war is making her insane.

Who _is_ Liara T'Soni? It's wrong to spy…but it would be useful in this instance. Is Liara the woman who blushes at a stray graze in the medbay? Or is she an efficient killer with little remorse? Can she be both?

Traynor leaves the showers in a towel, finger combing her hair as she returns to the crew quarters. Will she always live on the Normandy? She knows she's luckier than most. The memory of her family creeps to mind. She quickly walks to her quarters as if to outrun any terrified thoughts. She throws on her pants and undershirt before noticing the chess set on the bed.

It wasn't there half an hour ago.

Traynor regards it suspiciously before touching the box. _You forgot this, _a note reads. But she hasn't forgotten anything. This is not the travel-sized set she purchased on the Citadel. This is grander, made of heavy stone. She remembers telling Shepard she liked the feel of something solid in her hands—before the mortification that immediately followed when a passing sergeant snickered at her words.

Pervert.

Either way, the chess set is beautiful. And very inconveniently sized. She finishes dressing and brings the set to Liara's room. This time she makes no apologies. Liara doesn't look surprised to see her.

"Since we can't skip to longing gazes until we've sorted all your naughty behavior out, " by which she means the spying and the equality-ridden merciless killing of men and women, "I propose we meet tonight. Purgatory, 22:00 hours."

"No." Liara says. Traynor's heart plummets. "That is… it's too loud there. It'd be impossible to have a conversation." She stares at the computer. "I'll—I'll look into alternatives. Not the apartments," she says quickly, "I know better than that. But there are venues. Other ones. And I'm particularly talented at finding what's hidden. I'll contact you when I have the information."

How official. "How romantic."

"You can leave the chess set over there," she inclines her head towards the bed, taking a seat in front of a terminal, "until I find a better place for it."

Traynor cautiously sets it down on the edge of the bed. Did Liara plan for her to bring the chess set here? "If you weren't so terribly awkward I might imagine you were courting me." Traynor says. "Maybe you spied with your little eye that I can't resist a beautiful…chess set."

"I…don't know what you mean."

"What better way to get me to return here night after night?" Or, she could just ask.

Liara smiles grimly, followed by a long silence. "I never know when you're making jokes. Or if I should take you seriously."

"You should look to my records for clarification." Traynor says. Liara is unfazed by the accusation. Has Liara ever tried to have a conversation with her? Traynor did an extensive search through her files and found traces of when the data was accessed by some mysterious network. "Maybe I should be flattered that you're interested enough to look into the history of my very existence. Flattery would be preferable to terror."

Liara stands. "You're a soldier."

"What are you?" she looks around the room. "I have my theories."

"A soldier who's never seen battle isn't much of a soldier at all." Liara says thoughtfully. "But you're no real soldier." Traynor bites her tongue. Her expression darkens. "You're a scientist. I presume you're frightened of what happened on the Citadel. A scientist fights fear with knowledge and no doubt you want to know why or how I did what I did." She stops and looks at her. "How am I doing so far?"

"You know everything so why stop and ask?"

Liara laughs softly, a dark, arrogant sound. "I could give you the long explanation but I won't. To put it simply, it was their lives or mine. I chose mine. They were reckless. Letting them live would have only postponed the inevitable and they had already outlived their usefulness. I am a worthier commodity. I have no regrets." Traynor's silent. "You don't agree. Should I have let them shoot me? Should I have let them shoot you? They would have. Do you think innocence means anything anymore? It won't keep you safe. Ask the Reapers. Ask the people all over the galaxy mourning their lost children. Their lost parents."

A prick of despair stings her at the words. It becomes a mounting, cavernous emptiness, sucking her in like a black hole.

* * *

"So you told her people were only good for what they could offer and that the Reapers have likely killed anyone she ever gave a damn about. All of that and you're surprised she's not running into your arms?" Aethyta shakes her head. "Must be that Krogan charm of yours coming through."

"Will you stop with that?" Liara sits at the bar of Apollo's Café a hand to her forehead. "I've told you, that isn't how it works."

"And you would know because you're a very good information broker," she says with a roll of her eyes. "Where else could it have come from? Nezzy and I could charm the virginity out of the most devoted temple sisters and here you are, unable to get a kiss from a woman that's throwing herself at you."

Liara scowls. "I am not trying to get kisses." But she did forward Traynor a location and a time to meet her and she hadn't shown up. Liara doesn't know what provoked her to go to the café. It's late enough that the restaurant has closed down. Only she and Aethyta remain. Her father is terribly embarrassing and obnoxious…but something about her presence is comforting, even if she's overly presumptuous. She isn't trying to get kisses from Traynor… no matter how the idea appeals to her. She thinks of Traynor removing her jacket and shivers.

"Good thing, too. The Reapers have a better chance of getting her panties off than you do."

"I don't want you talking about her panties," Liara snaps.

"Perhaps…I've come at a bad time." Traynor says. Aethyta chuckles. Liara wonders how long Aethyta's known that Traynor was approaching. Does Aethyta like to humiliate her? Liara can't stop her blush. "Or a good time. Whose panties are we talking about?"

"Ah—I don't—I can't, quite…remember," Liara bites her tongue. Aethyta is on the verge of speaking. Liara doesn't want to hear whatever she has to say. She stands. "I was hoping to see you. That is—I was …sorry you didn't come earlier."

"If you play your cards right maybe she'll come later?" Aethyta suggests.

Liara looks at Aethyta, startled. "What? But she's already here…" Traynor laughs. Aethyta's smirk is enough to convince Liara that something vulgar has been said. And she's been made a fool of—possibly by her own volition. Liara takes a breath. "Can we go now?" she takes hold of Traynor's hand and drags her away without waiting for a response.

As soon as they are out of Aethyta's audible range, Liara releases Traynor. Artificial night has fallen in the Citadel. Traynor looks from her hand to Liara. Liara waffles in place. "Sorry… I thought if we stayed longer I'd say something terrible."

"About my underthings?"

"Yes. No. Goddess." Liara looks to the sky for guidance, for calm and gets nothing in return. This is the difficulty with artifice. "I thought—that when you met me… I would say everything perfectly. I had a speech planned and everything."

"Ooh, a speech. I want to hear it."

Traynor's faint smile convinces her that she isn't teasing. "I wasn't prepared for this location." She has learned to improvise. Improvisation is both a skill and a plan. Her short life has been filled with many demands for improvisation. But this is different. She isn't well-practiced with this… this thing she has difficulty naming. "You see… memory isn't just what's in your mind—it's expectations and locations as well… Any anomaly will…cause a ripple effect that will disturb…" she bites her lower lip. "It's... ruined now." She paces.

Traynor finds a bench and sits. For a long time she looks at the stars. Then she looks at her. "I don't have a speech. I almost talked myself out of coming to see you., actually. Big, brave soldier that I am." She smiles wryly.

Liara experiences relief and dread. It takes conscious effort to keep her voice steady. "Then why did you come?"

"I haven't quite built myself up to saying 'no' to you. And…I had a question." Liara ceases movement. Eventually she sits next to Traynor. Traynor wraps an arm behind the bench. She leans in close until Liara is left without choice but to meet her eyes. If not she'll meet her lips. "I've been thinking a lot about you. Not only for the obvious, shallow reasons or the other more…frightening ones. The equipment that you have, the secrecy that surrounds everything you do—the kind of information that you have access too. You're like… a… beautiful all-knowing ghoul."

"A ghoul?" she scoffs. That's taking things too far, isn't it?

"If I don't ask, I'll drive myself crazy wondering. Are you the Shadow Broker…?"

Blind panic leaves her breathless. She answers recklessly; she answers without analysis. She's thinking of Traynor's lips. She's thinking of a kiss. Which is to say that she isn't thinking. "Yes."

Liara can't read her eyes. Traynor comes no closer but neither does she retreat. Liara flicks her eyes away. How could she have said it? How could she have admitted it? She isn't used to lying. She isn't used to having to. She gets away with everything. She has always been invisible. "Well… are you just going to look at me and say nothing?"

Traynor gives a small, shake of her head, as if waking from slumber. "Sorry. I don't mean to stare." Liara can't face her. She drops her head. "…It certainly explains a few things. A lot, actually." Liara's eyes sting. She isn't sure if she's humiliated or frustrated that she was unable to guard a secret of paramount importance. "Hey…it's all right. I'm not stupid enough to tell anybody. I've seen what you can do."

Her heart sinks. It shouldn't surprise her. Everyone knows to fear the Shadow Broker. Everyone knows how she can make a person disappear, how she's done so in the past. "You're frightened of me?"

"Oh, yes. Terribly. For the record…I do want to have long, deep conversations with you."

"For the record…?"

"For the record." Traynor leans forward and kisses her. She clasps Liara's trembling lips with her own. Liara stiffens, uncertain, on fire. She doesn't know what to do with her hand. Traynor covers it, stilling her nervous, unknowing fingers.

* * *

"I wasted half of my life studying them." She laughs caustically. Traynor is unused to hearing her make the sound. "How everybody would laugh if they knew what an idiot I've been."

Traynor stands besides Liara. She has never seen Liara so agitated. She attributes it to Javik's persistent, correcting presence. Not since her last girlfriend has Traynor seen anyone so zealous to point out any and all insufficiencies. Traynor pushes her out of her mind. "I imagine this has something to do with Javik?"

"Listen to this," Liara says heatedly, " 'the simplicity of Prothean design likely evolved as Prothean society grew culturally and learned to see beauty in unity and harmony'. This of the race that enslaved the galaxy at large! I wrote that! I was so proud of myself! And no one could tell me differently."

"So you don't know everything. You're allowed to make mistakes." Maybe not the right thing to say. Liara's expression darkens further. "You were studying a race that perished 50,000 years ago. Meanwhile, I've met more than a few soldiers who can't tell me who the first human Spectre was." Traynor touches her face. "Don't be angry."

"That's easy for you to say." Liara pulls her hand away. "For the last twenty years of my life I didn't see my mother. I couldn't be bothered with what she wanted for me. High society parties and political debate. She didn't approve of my studies but I was rebellious. It was an excuse to be away from everybody. I was fatherless," she says darkly, "and a pureblood. Everyone knew it. I told myself there was nothing more important, more fascinating than Prothean life. I isolated myself and became estranged from my mother. I didn't even know she was working with Saren until it was too late. I watched her die, indoctrinated and what do I have to show for it?" she glowers at the computer screen. "All these years I told myself there was value to my work. But there wasn't. It's been nothing…!" she slams her fist into the broker terminal.

Traynor hadn't known Benezia weighed so heavily on Liara's mind. Is she angry at Javik or herself? Traynor can't imagine what it is to watch a mother die. How do people not die of heartbreak? Liara shakes. Traynor takes Liara's arm until Liara reluctantly faces her. "You can't beat yourself up over this. I know it must be hard but it hasn't all been for nothing. You found the Crucible blueprints. That's something, isn't it?"

"That had nothing to do with my studies. That was all of this," she looks at the equipment.

"All right… but you told me you helped Shepard decipher—those Prothean and cipher beacons? That's still true, isn't it?" There's a long pause before Liara eventually nods. "And ultimately you helped Shepard stop Saren and Sovereign. None of that would have been possible if you weren't a Prothean expert." She smirks faintly. "Look… I know Javik's, how do you say—a pain in the ass. But you can't question your life because of him. Not all of it, anyway."

Liara focuses on the floor, looking thoughtful and sad before lifting her eyes and smiling. "Maybe you're right."

Traynor's heart skips a beat. "I am, every once in a while." They haven't talked about their kiss on the Citadel. They haven't kissed since the Citadel though they have taken to spending more time together. They're both busy. War rages. Sometimes the absence of emotion on Liara's face as she works scares her. Then she'll look at her like this and Traynor feels as if she's lost her footing. She takes a step closer to her. "Let me know if Javik gives you any trouble. I have a long list of questions guaranteed to annoy the piss out of him." Liara's faint smile grows brighter. "If you keep smiling at me like that… I'm afraid I'll try to take advantage of you again." She touches the fabric of Liara's jacket.

Liara laughs nervously. "You're very forward."

"One of us has to be. Otherwise we'd still be exchanging longing glances," not that they aren't still, "which is fine…but it doesn't involve as many kisses as I'd like."

Liara smiles so bashfully that it takes all of Traynor's willpower to not pull Liara into her arms. "Have you had many girlfriends?" Liara asks, turning her back to her and moving to the chess set that sits precariously on the end of the bed. Traynor wonders how often Liara sleeps in it. It never looks slept on. Liara kneels at the foot of the bed before sitting. Traynor sits beside her. "You…must have had many."

"A few."

"Any asari?"

"Not if my parents had anything to say about it. But…I'm of the mind that if they met you they'd come around." She laughs, embarrassed. "That isn't to say—that I'm already thinking of having you meet my parents. But erm—I—you're a bloody hero… so… naturally…" she closes her eyes and smiles. "Mh, that was clumsy."

She brought a few girls home. Some, her parents liked, others eventually left her for more exciting alternatives—alternatives that went to frat parties, or didn't think chess was amazing, alternatives that had penises. Which she does not have nor is she intent on having in her life. She regards Liara carefully. She looks like a woman. She is a woman. Isn't she? She reminds herself to look it up later and staunches any doubts. "My turn to ask questions." What do you look like naked? "When was the last time you were involved with someone? What were they like? Human or asari? Turian? Krogan? God, they're big…" tentatively. "Elcor?" Really big. What are they like when they mate, she wonders. What's their pillow talk consist of? _In throes of passion: more, more, don't stop. _She laughs. Liara looks at her. "Er—sorry. I was just." No, better, not tell her. "Well, which one?"

"Ah—well. No. Um. None of those."

Traynor studies her cautiously. She fights off the giggles. She must forget the elcor in the throes of passion. "Hanar, then? No? Batarian? There aren't many of those left… Yahg?" She receives a scowl at the last. "Have I run out of races? Volus? Salarian? Vorcha? …Prothean?" Liara's eyes light up, a more electric, pulsing blue than is natural. Ooh, she's made her mad. But she's so…alluring and dark when she's angry. "So, that's a no? I'll thank you if you don't smear me on the walls. I'd hate to leave a mess." She prods Liara's leg. "Come on, tell me."

"That's private."

"I'll remind you that you've raided my personal history with all the respect of a scurvy pirate." Traynor watches Liara fidget all the more. "What's the big deal? You're a hundred and nine years old. It's not like you're a virgin." She laughs. Liara pales before she turns purple. Traynor gapes. This is not happening. "I—I –thought asari were more – um—sexually liberated than—than humans or other races—" she stammers.

Liara quickly stands. Pacing begins. Traynor jumps to her feet. Liara wrings her hands. Traynor takes a breath. She suspected Liara was overly nervous around her. She never dreamed… "Oh… I get it. This is a joke, yes? Serves me right for all those times I've pranked you. Bloody brilliant, really."

"I'm—I'm quite young," Liara says defensively to her, "in asari years I'm barely more than a child—"

"You're a child?" Traynor asks horrified. She doesn't look like a child!

"Well… well, no! I'm not a child, but…" she continues to pace. "I… haven't spent a great deal of time with people…and my studies usually came first. I spent years alone in dig sites… And with the Shadow Broker network…and the Normandy and—I don't have to explain to you how alluring most scientists can be. I've never—I just—didn't find the time or… maybe not the right person or…Goddess. This is terrible. I—really…should get back to work," she turns away from her and goes to the terminal. "You're…attractive and charming—sometimes." Sometimes? "I've…been letting things get away from me. And…oh, Goddess, please just go before I melt into a blue puddle on the floor." She looks back at her, all seriousness. "There is a Reaper war in progress."

"Ah. Right you are—and… well… I'm—probably needed in CIC." Or maybe a cold shower. She looks at Liara's shower. No. Turn away. Turn away. Oh, but how lovely it'd be to shower in it. With Liara. But now… A virgin. How! And an asari one to boot. This is all…perfectly fixable. She'll just have to… take cold showers and… watch some asari porn vids. For science! Her face heats at the thought. Maybe… Joker will have some recommendations. She stops next to her. "I don't want this to be awkward."

"We established awkwardness about two minutes ago."

"Let's kiss and forget all about it." And then kiss again and kiss some more and then do a few other things that would render the entire conversation irrelevant. Liara turns to look at her, disgruntled and pouting, angry too. Traynor wonders how she gets so many emotions into her face all in one. "I didn't mean to—" Liara is so bashful. It's really quite endearing. It'll be something to tease her about later but not now. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

"You're pushy."

"And you're ever-surprising." She kisses her cheek. Liara blushes again. "And…adorable. So… I'm going to go and let you work. If you're free later… invite me over for a chess game? There's a few starting moves I'd be happy to teach you." She winks and she's gone.

Once outside Liara's room she finds it impossible to cool down. Cold, frigid, shitty shower it is. Followed by asari porn. For science.


	4. Research

A/N: This story has always been founded on Liara going after the shadow broker by herself and hiring a crap ton of mercenaries i.e. not doing LoTSB DLC [gasp] or playing a clean ME3 playthrough, thus, there are some differences (and some characters about that normally wouldn't be.) Also, guys, holy shit. Thanks for the reviews, you sassy readers! More roller coaster tones to follow. Sorry for the slow updates! Ah, life. Thanks to T.A.M. for proofing! And go read his stories. They are brilliant.

* * *

Luckily, the extranet has a great deal of asari porn. The next task becomes whittling down the selection to what is most relevant. Traynor struggles. While no virgin herself, she is hapless when it comes to mating (is that too clinical a term?) with asari.

It's nonsense. She will approach making love to Liara in the way she has her previous liaisons. Not that she has ever bedded a virgin asari who is more than three times her age.

If they survive all of this, she'll have a greatly inappropriate story to tell her future grandchildren. This sparks a thought: what if Liara gets pregnant? That would be wonderful! Much in the future after many lengthy conversations about what they might like for their future and if they work together as a couple. That is getting too far ahead of herself. But what of anything accidental...? Is there asari birth control?

She will look up asari physiology. For science. And to assuage any terror. Is this what men feel like? She's not ready to become a mother (or is it father? Father!) just yet. Anyway, her parents would kill her. Until they saw the accidental asari children?

Regardless, she is overthinking matters. There's no guarantee that Liara wants to sleep with her. They've shared slow, sweet kisses but little more. Maybe it's the end of the world that guides her but she would rather go out in the fiery embrace of a lover than the stinging, white-hot ray of a Reaper. The bastards.

Traynor has a drink of water to quench her parched throat. The extranet connection is somewhat spotty. _Take a breath! You've watched porn!_ But not asari porn. She is relatively sure there will not be any tentacles outside of the norm. But what if there are?

Panic. No. Relax. She looks through the possible vids. There are vids of men and asari, women and asari, the rarer asari and asari and sometimes all of the above. She ignores the hanar and elcor and asari vids. Traynor groans inwardly and selects one at random (of the women and asari). She nervously sits through the terrible dialogue.

"_Why so blue?" _

Of course the human is the idiot. The despondent asari speaks about a lazy roommate who never does dishes. The human is very understanding and speaks of women in her culture being particularly hardworking. Traynor rolls her eyes. More bad dialogue follows. Traynor skips forward. Loud moaning commences.

Traynor is horrified, nearly throwing the laptop off her lap in the search for the mute button. Its location has gone missing from her mind. The moaning continues, along with some questionable dirty talk.

"_I'll embrace __**your**__ eternity." _The human promises.

What? Traynor's nearly buried her face in the keyboard when the door to the observatory opens. Traynor yelps. Ashley Williams walks in, a knapsack slung casually over her shoulder, eyebrow arched in judgment. "Oh, God!" Traynor shouts. "This isn't—I quite assure you—"

"_Oh, yes! Right there!"_

Shit! Having no other recourse, Traynor slams the laptop shut. Here she is, kneeling on the observatory deck room floor _watching porn_ as Ashley Williams takes a tour. Isn't she involved with Commander Shepard? What if she tells him? Where are the Reapers when you need them? Traynor stands awkwardly and dusts off her knees. "Ah, welcome aboard the Normandy, ma'am." She salutes and wants to die. She's been caught watching porn by the second human Spectre. Great.

"What are you doing?" Ashley asks.

"Erm—" _Kill me now. Kill me now. Kill me now._ "I…had thought this room was erm…unoccupied…and thus… um—readily available for matters of…research."

"Research?"

"Yes. Ma'am."

"Porn?"

"Ah. Well." She coughs. "Erm—I can see why—it might sound that way."

"Care to pull it up again, Specialist?"

Traynor flushes right up to her ears. "I ah—no. Ma'am." She remains holding her hand up pathetically in salute. "I—hadn't known you were returning so soon."

Ashley strides in and throws her bag on one of the couches. "I'm not. Just taking a look around before I report to Udina for orders. But someday… who knows? Skipper could use a good shot on his side. Mandibles isn't the only one who can handle a sniper rifle." She smirks and picks up the laptop. "But I'll let you get back to your 'research'. I suggest somewhere private, Specialist? Dismissed."

Traynor laughs nervously and scrambles out of the room with the laptop in hand. Wonderful! The Lieutenant-Commander no doubt thinks her a pervert. Worst yet, she didn't even get to see the vid. Should she try it again or simply attempt to wing it?

What was that business about embracing eternity? What a terrible pick-up line.

* * *

"I saw your search history." Liara doesn't look up from the datapad. She has become accustomed to the weight of Traynor's steps and the times that she frequents. Oh, yes. She saw Traynor's search history. It had taken hours for her to cool down from the revelation. Thinking of it now makes her blush furiously.

"I told you to stop doing that," Traynor says. "We've talked about this. Spying is bad, remember? Unless you're using it for the war effort and I don't see how this constitutes as 'the war effort.''

"I can frame everything to fit the context I demand. For example, Specialist Samantha Traynor, could you now be decrypting data and analyzing files from the various Cerberus stations we've hit? Instead, you're wasting valuable time and necessary resources on pornographic material." Traynor looks at her blankly. "See?"

"Kill me now."

"That's unnecessary…" she looks through her notes. "It is my understanding that the human race has a high sex 'drive.' However, your culture is limited by spirituality and shame in regard to your sexuality. Confounding given your violent tendencies. A mass study of intergalactic species revealed that it is in fact human beings that spend the greatest amount of time on the extranet searching for pornography." She looks at Traynor now. "Most of their searches are for human on human or human on asari pornography. Turians are popular among female pornographers. Many humans also search for what quarians look like beneath their suits." She allows a small smile as Traynor pulls into herself.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Your kind tends to be fascinated with mine."

Traynor laughs nervously. "Can you blame us? Admittedly—I didn't know it was so commonplace."

"When I initially suspected your attraction—I thought you were no different than anyone else."

"When really I was drawn to your blushing virgin routine." She winces. Liara mirrors the expression. She blushes anew and fixates on her datapad. "Anyway… I saw you attempting to speak to EDI about the matter—"

"You _really_ have to stop spying on me," Traynor snaps.

Liara looks at her curiously. The embarrassment of before is gone. Now all that's left on Traynor's pretty features is irritation, indignation, anger. "I … wasn't spying. I was… doing research. Assessing the situation. It's… it's what I do. It's what you do."

"I understand 'research'. But this is different. It's an invasion of privacy. We've had this conversation many times now."

Liara doesn't understand what the difference is between Traynor looking up pornography and her trying to understand Traynor. Their methodology may be different but the goal is the same. "Sorry, then… I suppose I have a difficult time breaking old habits." It feels like the right thing to say though she isn't sure that she has anything to be sorry about. "I'll try to be less meticulous. About you, anyway…" In other matters she cannot falter. Liara imagines that if any area in her life should lack or ever be afforded the luxury of faltering— it should be romantic matters. The war, the world, the Reapers require any means necessary and whatever methods she may use, she will not apologize for them. "I admit I was somewhat flustered by how things… were left between us." Traynor looks at her as if deciding whether to forgive her or not. Liara takes the opportunity to shove the datapad in her face. "You appear to be embarrassed by your foray into pornography."

"Yes, so let's keep bringing it up, shall we?"

"I have taken the liberty of collecting some reading material for you on asari biology and physiology. I'll forward them to you right now," she presses a few buttons. "My hope is that the reading should prove enlightening. I have studied human biology in the past… though I can't remember if most of my studies focused on male or females. It's all the same for us."

"Oh." Traynor says. "Well. Let me say that we're different."

"Truly? I'll do some more research." She sighs. "To be honest… I'm a little overwhelmed by all of this. I've never given thought to another individual…in any real romantic sense, anyway. There might have been something with Feron but…" she shakes her head. "You're not a drell." She laments. If Traynor were, she would have a greater understanding of what might pleasure her. Interspecies coupling is difficult.

"I'm not," she tells her helpfully.

"I'm unsure of how to proceed. I suppose we could strip our clothing and examine one another."

"Play doctor?" Traynor grins. "Dr. T'soni, how unexpectedly wicked of you."

Is it? Wouldn't that be the best way? "I can't say that I understand what you mean. I've never heard of this 'playing doctor'. And considering the years of schooling it takes I doubt that many could play it well."

"Go ahead and ruin it," Traynor steals the datapad from her hand and sets it aside. Liara doesn't know what to do with her hands. She buries them in her pocket. Traynor's arms slide beneath the jacket and around her waist. "Not only is your spying an invasion of privacy but it takes all the fun out of it, too. While you were spying on me, you voyeur, you, did you happen to spy Lieutenant-Commander Williams walking in on me during research?"

Liara doesn't know whether to focus on the amusing imagery of Ashley Williams walking in on Traynor, the general ire she feels for Ashley or Traynor's warm hands in the cold, dark room, gripping her hips. The last. Definitely the last. Liara says something that isn't a word.

Traynor smiles. Her smiles have become increasingly mischievous. Liara is never sure whether she's being mocked or no but the smile has the ability to render her incapable of normal thought or movement. "I have a suggestion. I say we forego all this research and go the route of a hands-on approach." She grazes her lips against Liara's. "It may take time…hours, days, weeks…but I'm willing if you are. I prefer doing my own research and I assure you that I'm very…thorough."

Liara breathes unsteadily. "Relying on other research data may introduce too many variables," she agrees, "and if we were to discuss sample—"

"Testing—then… we can be both control," she pulls her closer.

"And experimental group? Yes! These results would prove more reliable and valid." Liara is embarrassed by her mild exclamation. "It's rare to find others who understand research methodology," she states. At least amongst the circles she spends time in lately. "There's Mordin…" she says breathlessly. Traynor pushes the jacket from her shoulders. It falls to the floor in a puddle. "And me. You…"

Traynor catches her lips. Liara goes hot as Traynor's hand comes to the back of her neck, massaging and sliding upward. A sliver of pleasure pulses through her and she gasps.

"Oh, God! Sorry—was that a—er—bad area?"

"Ah, no." Liara says embarrassed. Goddess, what is she thinking making sounds like that? She hadn't meant to! Perhaps being unused to this kind of physical stimulation has left her too easily excited. It might be wise to build…control. "It was fine," she mutters.

"Oh. That's a relief." She laughs. "Well, then… should we resume where we left off?" Liara doesn't have an opportunity to respond before Traynor kisses her again. Liara goes dizzy, her breath short and sharp, being pulled from her with Traynor's every contact. Liara never thought she could feel so lightheaded. Traynor's lips are on her neck, then on her mouth, fingers sliding beneath her shirt.

The sensation is wonderful but overwhelming. She breaks the kiss. "What should I do?" she asks helplessly. "I feel like such a fool." A fool lost in endless ecstasy but a fool nonetheless. "I am afraid that I am not wholly sure of…"

Liara quiets as Traynor brings a finger to her lips. She takes Liara's wrist and brings her hand to her body. Traynor meets her eyes. "Do what you like," she whispers. "This is new for both of us. We'll figure it out together."

Liara can hardly breathe. She is unsure of how she remains standing. Traynor claims her mouth again. Liara's hands mime Traynor's own that explore along her body. She is delighted when her touches evoke a response in Traynor. Her skin is soft to the touch. She focuses on that when Traynor smiles and presses her down to the bed before she can focus on nothing else. Bare and pressed against one another, the pressure and pleasure is near too much.

Traynor moves over her. Traynor who was unable to do proper research prior to this occasion is capable of undoing her with kiss, touch, the melting and knowing heat of her tongue.

Liara trembles and quivers over and over again.

* * *

It takes Traynor time to figure out where she is. It's dark and there are multiple monitors. It's either Liara's room or an electronics store… or some incredibly kinky set-up. She remembers and sits up. Liara isn't beside her. Traynor spots Liara in a terminal chair, staring intently into a monitor.

Traynor looks about for her clothing. It's further than Liara is. She foregoes it and goes to her. Liara has slipped into her jacket and nothing more. "I like this look on you," Traynor presses a kiss to her neck. Liara glances back, smiles weakly and thanks her. "Can't sleep? You should have woken me. We could have done some more 'research.' Or played a game of chess." Both are equally valid. One is more enjoyable than the other, but not by too much. The best thing about it was cementing that Liara is indeed a woman! Well, no, that wasn't the best thing. Though her unparalleled beauty and sweetness throughout it all left little to be desired. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes." Liara says blankly. "No."

Traynor waits cautiously but Liara doesn't continue. "What is it? Is it us?" She sounds so uncertain it's laughable. But she can't right now. She doesn't know how to read Liara's eyes. Maybe it's the darkness. They're sad, angry, regretful. Traynor thought things had gone well. It's possible Liara didn't reach the same conclusion.

"What? No." Liara stands. "That was… It was…" She ducks her face thoughtfully. Traynor kisses her cheek. When Liara lifts her face again she smiles, a heartbroken happy smile, if there can ever be such a thing. Traynor is confused and enthralled by Liara's contradictions. "There's… something else. Something I need to take care of."

"Oh. Can I help?"

Liara shakes her head. "It isn't work you can do. Not the kind of work you should do."

"Are you intentionally trying to make me insatiably curious?"

"You aren't already?"

Traynor smiles and takes Liara's face in her hands. Liara's smile has warmed but her eyes remain distant. She's afraid this is the beginning of the woman she saw in the Citadel apartment, gunning others down without a shred of remorse. They may speak more now but Traynor still doesn't know her. Maybe she's worrying too much. "Whatever this is…is it something you can do now?" Liara shakes her head. That's reassuring, at least. If it isn't so pressing, perhaps it isn't so dangerous. "Then don't drive yourself crazy and come back to bed."

"I should prepare—"

"Let it go for now." She kisses her. Liara returns the kiss tentatively and then more needily than before. Whatever reservations Liara had vanish by the moment. Traynor can't help but feel that something is wrong. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No."

Liara is an unsurprisingly fast learner. They kiss deeply. Liara remains pinned beneath her, looking as if she'll fly away. Something is wrong. "Look at me," Traynor glides her hand along her face. Liara does. Eventually her breaths of panic settle into something else, into pleasure. She squeezes her eyes shut. If only she could see into her mind, see what she's thinking. Traynor supposes that's impossible and with all the times she's berated Liara about the invasion of privacy, highly hypocritical.

They find their way to a languid, satisfying finish.

Regardless—Traynor's worried. Liara heaves for breath, eyes still closed. Traynor turns on her side, fingers gliding along Liara's stomach. "You know, as lovely as that was… we can't do that every time you want to avoid a conversation." Liara turns to her and smiles faintly. "I'm not sure that should have just happened."

"No. It was good. I needed…" Liara closes her eyes again. When she opens them she smiles grimly. "I needed to do more 'research.'"

"I don't believe you for even a moment," Traynor says, "but I won't push you." Traynor kisses her briefly. "You know… if we're going to do this… we'll need to talk and to trust each other. Relationships are more than just this."

"Is that what this is? A relationship?" Liara muses. Traynor feels as if she's been doused in cold water. Isn't it? Has she been stupid? Isn't this what they've been heading towards? "This is my first. It might take some time for me to get accustomed to the…expectations. You know how I say…terribly embarrassing things."

"I like when you do that."

"Mh, then you'll remember that the next time I've made you angry," Liara says with a gentle smirk. She sits up and brings their lips together briefly. "Thank you. For being…patient. But now I have work to do. There are things that can't wait. Not for anyone or anything."

"Whatever it is you're doing… is it safe?"

Liara smiles grimly. "Is anything safe anymore?"

* * *

Cerberus is after her again. It's only recently that their professional relationship has proven…mutually unhealthy. What with the Illusive Man sending agents after her for helping Shepard (and no doubt in attempts to access her files) and Liara helping Shepard decimate Cerberus troops. She does not always approve of Cerberus' methods, she can't deny they have made valuable contributions to the world. If having a warrant on her head for turning against them is the price of having Shepard brought back—she'll gladly pay it.

She thought it was only Cerberus she had to worry about. She ought to be used to having people after her. There are others more worrisome than even Cerberus.

Not all Spectres are Saren or Shepard or even the almighty Ashley Williams. Some are Tela Vasir. Liara has dodged a bullet or two from her on more than one occasion. Vasir can shoot; she'll give her that. If not for her barriers Liara is sure she wouldn't have a head left. Sometimes it's good to be paranoid.

Tela Vasir stopped making regular reports some months ago. Liara entertained the idea that Vasir was dead but doubted she'd be so lucky. Tela Vasir is intelligent. Most likely she's learned that there's a new Shadow Broker. And that it's her.

The mercenaries' she used to take over the Shadow Broker ship all died therefore ensuring their silence. Convenient and cheap however unfortunate. Admittedly she never mourned them. Taking the ship hadn't gone as planned. Could she have done things differently? Could she have saved Feron? Should she have hired more soldiers?

She thinks of Feron pinned to that machine, a shadow of his former self. It only took her two years to return to him. He endured only two years of torture.

Liara rises from the terminal, showers and dresses. Tela Vasir is responsible for the death of many of her information contacts. If not for Vasir, she might have tracked the Shadow Broker's location more quickly. Feron might still be alive. She may be the Shadow Broker now but their goals are not the same. The Shadow Broker would have given Shepard's body to the Collectors, to the Reapers! What would they have done with it? Who would they have turned him into? Would they have indoctrinated him? She isn't sure. The repercussions would have been astronomical. The Shadow Broker operated on greed without another thought to how his actions affected others.

It must have been easy to be that way, isolated as he was, living in his own little world.

She's different. She has a personal stake in things. Feron was a friend. She hasn't had many of those. This is the first report of a Vasir sighting in months. Every other time Liara's been too late. Not this time. She won't let the Reapers take Vasir out. Liara wants the satisfaction herself. Vasir may be above the law but the Shadow Broker answers to nobody.

Liara picks up the gun and examines it. She has already made the necessary payments to C-Sec security to look the other way. She leaves the safety off and slips it into the holster at her side. Hopefully Shepard will be too occupied by Ashley and other problems to pay her too much attention. Biotics are a powerful weapon but not so immediate, not so bloody as a bullet. Pulling a trigger requires less effort. Time management is important. She is aware of what her priorities should be. But she'll be better able to focus once Vasir has been taken care of.

Liara takes the elevator up to CIC. Traynor is at her station. She turns and smiles at her. "Heading out already?" Traynor asks. "I was looking forward to a little R&R myself… but I'm swamped with work."

Liara knows why Traynor is swamped. There is a deluge of data that has come in. She has picked out what seems most pressing and forwarded it through what appear to be normal channels. Traynor is an exceptional communications specialist. She can do this work faster than she can. No doubt she will eventually find out where it came from but in the meantime it will keep her occupied and off the Citadel. "Try not to take too long," Liara says. She knows it will take hours.

"I'll do my best." She turns away from the terminal and leans back into it. "Are you feeling better? You were down last time I saw you." Her fingers graze Liara's fingertips. "Oh, I meant to show you—" she turns to the side too quickly, her hand brushing against the holster beneath Liara's jacket. Her expression says that she's found the gun. Liara keeps her expression neutral. "A cute puppy video—" Traynor finishes lamely.

"Show me later?" Liara takes Traynor's wrist and squeezes it. "It's all right." She whispers into her ear. "I'm feeling better."

Liara releases her and exits the Normandy. She pushes Traynor's concern for her away. She pushes the reservations Shepard would have away. She ignores her own. This isn't wrong. This is… necessary.


	5. Solitary

A/N: Sooooorrrry it took me so long to update this. Basically my copy of ME3 (ps3) has been broken and no one is fixing anything (Damn you, Bioware/EA PS3 support) so I can't play it and I was worried I'd be losing whatever immersion I need for writing. I decided "screw it" and just wrote it anyway. Hopefully upcoming chapters won't take so long. And hopefully it reads okay. Thanks for the support and reviews, everyone! There's no guilt like an alert or a review. Again, this chapter is with the premise that Liara solo'd going after the Shadow Broker on her own without Shep. I think without romancing her/him she's a harder character.

* * *

It's startling how quickly screams can die away. Bullets hurry the agonized into silence. Tela Vasir was expecting her and came with backup. Liara moves past the hallway of bodies. Their lives are on Vasir's hands—Vasir had to know they would only slow her down.

It's late in the Citadel. The usual false and cheerful sunlight has dimmed to simulate the setting sun and the approach of night. Liara waited many hours for her opportunity. Better to fight while civilians are scarce. Better to put precautions and distractions into place so she can sneak into corridors where need be.

Citadel Security is still painfully flawed—it works to her benefit this time. The guards are overburdened and there are refugees everywhere demanding attention or causing trouble.

Traynor has sent her several messages. Liara responded to the first, hours ago while she sipped tea and did some work on her data pad. The others she hasn't bothered with. Goddess, it isn't as if she is out in the middle of a battlefield. But there she would have Shepard as backup, at least. No. This is Tela Vasir. She is only one woman.

Another message arrives. Liara takes a silent breath and glances at her omni-tool.

_Where are you?_

Liara bites her tongue. Are all humans so clingy? She is on business. She doesn't need to be hounded when she's trying to focus. The lights in the steely hallway she stands in flicker. Liara holds tightly to her gun. There's movement in the shadows.

Liara steps out. "Vasir!" she lifts her gun. Vasir stands at the end of the hallway. A smile poised on her lips, an M-15 vindicator assault rifle lifted delicately to rest against her shoulder. Liara grips the M-6 tightly. Her hands feel sweaty.

"You lost, T'Soni?" Vasir asks. "Watch where you point that thing."

Liara takes a cautious step forward. "I already handled your soldiers."

"Ah." Vasir looks at them with an irreverent smile. "I was hoping they'd discourage you but I'm surprised. You clean up nicely."

"If you thought they could stop me you were mistaken."

"So…naturally you think you can handle me. People say that you're arrogant. They're right." She drops the assault rifle to her side. "Don't know why you bothered hunting me down. Haven't you heard that it takes a Spectre to take out a Spectre? You're just a little girl. No matter who you are now. Don't fool yourself into thinking you can take me."

Liara grits her jaw. The last time her heart beat so wildly Samantha was kissing her, touching her. This heightened sense again, triggered by the potential for violence. She's excited and scared. There was a time when holding a gun frightened her, repulsed her. Now, she can think of nothing she wants more. She wants Vasir's blood. She wants her dead. "We'll see." She thinks of Feron. She has to think of him before her resolve weakens. Vasir stopped her from getting to the Broker. She killed her contacts, erased her leads. Feron died strapped to a table, tortured for years.

"You're working with Shepard. Run back to him. The Council backs Shepard. I work for the Council. They wouldn't like it if I killed their little Prothean expert."

"So you think you can kill me?" Liara asks. She thinks of Vasir's failed attempts. At first it had been frightening. Liara was accustomed to battling husks and mercenaries working for Saren, not people personally invested in ending her. It was different without Shepard. She had to evolve. She had to harden. "You haven't yet."

"I wasn't trying."

"And you won't fight now?" She smiles coldly. "Do you think that will stop me?"

Vasir sneers. "You don't have what it takes."

"No?" She takes another step forward and pulls the trigger. She pulls it five more times.

* * *

Traynor checks her messages. Nothing. It's 21:00 hours.

Liara left early afternoon. Traynor has already whittled through the majority of the work she was fed. A whim made her trace the delivery signatures. It was sent from the Broker network, from Liara herself. After the initial anger Traynor dug more until she found a name: Tela Vasir. A Spectre. A hero Spectre, responsible for stopping countless assassinations and acts of terrorism against the Citadel and the Council, responsible for the capture of more than two hundred slavers. She's an asari, an attractive one.

Has Liara only gone to rendezvous with her? An inkling of jealousy manifests. But why would she take a gun? She tells herself she's only worrying but can't help but think of her the night prior. Liara was a bundle of nerves, aching to be distracted before dismissing her, telling her she had to work. And then she fed her a mountain of work and pretended it was a pity she couldn't join her.

Traynor wonders how often Liara lies or why she feels the need to lie to her. She scans for Liara's omni-tool but it's offline or she's masked its frequency. The important thing is not to panic. Whatever it is that Liara's doing she wanted it kept secret. Commander Shepard has asked about her—Traynor had no answers. Now she does. Is it right to go to him? Will Liara be angry?

She weighs her options and takes the elevator to Shepard's cabin. She tries to settle herself. She could go after Liara herself but what's the point? Whatever Liara's mixed up in—it isn't anything her own military prowess will ease. She knocks on the door. Ashley answers, in a tanktop and underwear. Samantha flushes.

"Do you know what time it is, Specialist?" Ashley crosses her arms and leans into the door. Samantha rips her gaze away from her muscled arms and toned legs. To her chest, no, no, higher, to her face. Oh. She's right pretty, isn't she? Traynor had forgotten, having only the mortification of being caught watching porn seared into her person and nothing more.

"I thought…you were gone," she mutters. Hadn't Ashley returned to the Citadel? Wasn't she only touring?

"You thought I was gone?" Ashley asks. "So… you came to pay Skipper a visit? At…near midnight?"

"Yes." She nods. "Erm. No. That isn't what I meant—" she takes a breath. "This is all—It's about Dr. T'Soni. Liara," she clarifies.

"Wrong floor," Ashley hits the button on the door but Traynor squeezes into the room before the door closes. Shepard is shirtless on the bed, beneath a sheet. Traynor blushes further. Oh, great. This is exactly what she wanted to interrupt. Ashley crosses her arms and scoffs. "We weren't looking for company."

Traynor looks from Shepard to Ashley. "Sorry—I don't mean to intrude during your—erm—private time—but ah, it's Liara. She's been gone all day and she took a gun and… I think she may have gone to meet a Spectre—Tela Vasir. I ah—did a bit of spying on her," she admits with some embarrassment. "I'd go after her myself but I think she's in trouble and if she is—I can't help her. I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing," Shepard says. "Give us a few to get ready and we'll head out."

Ashley looks pointedly at Traynor, a glimmer of a taunting smile on her lips. "You have really lousy timing, you know that?" She grabs hold of the back of her shirt and pushes her out the room as if she were a toddler or prisoner. "Maybe you should spend less time on asari porn and more on P.T.?"

"Actually—" She starts to say but the door slides shut behind her. Traynor stares at it helplessly. Could this be any more humiliating?

"Asari porn?" she hears Commander Shepard's muffled voice behind the door.

More humiliating? Why yes, it can be. It doesn't matter. She needs Liara safe. She returns to her station at CIC and sends another desperate message, hoping for a response. Nothing comes.

* * *

Tela Vasir doesn't move. She is an easy target. Not all Spectres are created equal.

The bullets fly through the air. Liara doesn't breathe. This is the moment. Now she can rest easy. Her gun smokes. The bullets stop violently short, colliding with a barrier sprung from nowhere. The bullets flatten, turning magma red before they're flung back at her in every direction.

Liara dives to the side. One of the bullets nicks her arm, burning it. She squelches back a howl as the other bullets slam into the wall and floor around her, leaving smoldering, blackened holes. Her omni-tool flashes. A new message. By the Goddess—

She has no time for ire. Vasir is rushing her. Liara scrambles to her feet only to be blasted off them a moment later. She slams brutally into a wall, the air knocked out of her. Her omni-tool flickers and dies. She crashes to her knees. Pain flares throughout her. She looks at Vasir who doesn't smile anymore but approaches with ruthless focus.

Vasir is a biotic powerhouse. Liara read the reports but she hadn't imagined… Had she been arrogant? Her own biotic abilities have evolved significantly since she met Shepard. Most foes don't give her pause—but she has never fought asari Spectres, centuries older than her.

She should have given this more thought. Isn't she always questioning the recklessness of humans? And here she has let her emotions cloud her judgment. How has she been so foolish? Will her need for revenge prove to be her undoing? _No time to think now. On your feet!_

She doesn't have the chance to stand on her own. She's ripped to her feet, held in Vasir's biotic grip. She can't breathe. Goddess. What has she done? What of the war? What of the Reapers? What of Shepard and Samantha? But Feron… Feron didn't deserve it either. Tears squeeze out of her eyes. Vasir hurls her through the air. Liara is flung out a glass window. She flies out into the openness of the Presidium. Everything is still. The false stars shine in the false darkness. It's cold and beautiful. Will she die here?

She plummets several stories to the Presidium. She salvages the landing at the last moment, pulling up a biotic field but the pain is still crippling. Glass falls around her, into her as she gasps for breath, not able to get any air into her lungs. Vasir follows after, gracefully flowing down with a biotic flush several feet from her. Vasir lifts an arm and everything around Liara, tables, benches blast apart in all directions.

Liara barely manages to roll away, to hobble to her feet. She can't stand straight. She falters and drops to one knee. Vasir approaches. Liara glowers and fidgets for her gun. It feels impossibly heavy in her hand and she scarcely has the energy to lift it.

Vasir stops in her tracks. Liara breathes raggedly but is warm with the thread of victory. It's short lived. Liara hears a click. She hears two. Ashley moves ahead, assault rifle at the ready, aimed at Vasir's head. Shepard follows beside her. Liara lowers her face, ashamed. "Two Spectres against one," Ashley says. "Guess who's going to kick whose ass."

"Set your weapon down," Shepard glances at Liara before looking back at Vasir, the hold on his hand cannon steady. "There doesn't need to be any bloodshed."

"I didn't know this was a party," Vasir lifts the assault rifle. "She tailed me here. I know what we're up against. I'm not stupid. You really think I want to take you out? Hell, you may be the last hope the galaxy has against the Reapers."

"Put your weapon down," Ashley says again.

Liara looks at her. She's changed. She used to be hotheaded. Maybe she still is. But here she stands beside Shepard, strong and unflinching, professional. Here to help her out. Goddess, why are they here? Samantha. It must have been Samantha. Liara's arm trembles. She's still pointing the gun at Vasir. "Shepard, it's her fault Feron is dead." He shouldn't be dead. It's all her fault, isn't it?

"Who?" he asks.

Liara realizes she's never told him about Feron. She pulls the trigger anyway. Vasir's fast. She doesn't need a barrier. She's under it, storming forward. The ground shakes, Shepard and Ashley scramble and find cover.

Vasir's hand is on Liara's throat, crushing tightly. "You stupid bitch. You really want me to kill you, don't you?"

Liara meets her eyes. Black is creeping into her vision. Then Vasir isn't there anymore. Liara falls to the ground. Shepard? No. Shepard is beside Ashley, helping her to her feet. Vasir flies through the air like a rag doll before hitting a railing so hard that Liara hears something crack. Then she's limp, holding to the railing, barely able to stay on her knees.

"I don't give a rat's ass who you are," Aethyta says to Vasir. Liara looks up at Aethyta, standing in front of her, shielding her, aglow with biotic power, fists clenched. "Nobody touches my girl. Try it again if you can get up. I don't need an asari commando squad to kick your ass."

Ashley isn't sure who to aim the rifle at. Shepard stands beside Ashley, lowering her rifle. Liara kneels, grateful and blank, useless and defeated. Aethyta stoops in front of her. She touches Liara's bleeding face delicately and sighs. "Little Wing. It turns out you're not a krogan after all, huh?" Her voice is unexpectedly soft. "You big baby."

Liara reaches for her before letting her hand fall away. Aethyta pulls her close into an embrace. Liara breathes unsteadily. She watches through tear filled eyes as Ashley and Shepard go to Vasir, talk to her, let her walk away.

* * *

Huerta Memorial Hospital is a mournful place filled with groaning bodies and despairing families. It's 02:45 hours. Traynor is usually asleep now, not in hospitals visiting friends who were fool enough to take on a Spectre.

She makes it to the receptionist desk and is turned away— it's not visiting hours. Traynor argues and comes close to pleading but the thin-lipped receptionist has heard it all and isn't having any of it.

"You'll have to come see your girlfriend later," the receptionist tells her dismissively.

Traynor reluctantly agrees. Is Liara her girlfriend? She hasn't had one of those in a while. She exits to the elevator and is momentarily trapped in a malfunctioning steel death trap. A voice comes on over the elevator comm. "Sorry, we've been having some problems with the elevator— no clue when we'll get it fixed. We have a few work arounds... We'll have you out of there soon."

Traynor sighs and leans tiredly into the elevator wall, mentally reviewing the hours prior. Commander Shepard and Lieutenant-Commander Williams returned hours after Traynor spoke to them, interrupting their tryst. She doesn't blame Ashley for being irritated. She would be too if they'd interrupted her and Liara. Both Spectres looked run down and exhausted. "Everything's going to be fine," Shepard clamped a reassuring hand on her shoulder but was too tired to be forthcoming with the details.

It was Aethyta who messaged her, letting her know Liara was at Huerta Memorial. _"I used to think she got Nezzy's brains but now I'm not so sure. She inherited a bit too much of her Dad's love for fighting, dumb thing. Thanks for letting me know what was going on. Liara did good landing you. Drinks on the house from now on. Have you slept with her yet?"_

Traynor smiles faintly, curious about what may have happened. Everyone is acting cavalier about matters. Maybe it wasn't as frightening as imagined. She returns to the Normandy once the engineers patch whatever was wrong with the elevator and crashes into a restless sleep.

Is it possible to be with someone when you worry so much about them? Can something like that survive?

* * *

They've stuffed her with so much medi-gel that Liara is practically embalmed in it. She wakes in a sterile hospital room with a stunning view. Endless stretches of sunny skies are complimented by mountains, illusions, she's sure. Birds rise and dive out of her line of sight.

She's numb. They gave her painkillers but she's sure that the drugs have little to do with her fugue. It's dramatic to make her be here. She's embarrassed. She didn't get a scratch on Vasir. What would have happened if Shepard and Ashley hadn't arrived? What would she have done without her father to protect her?

Liara sighs miserably. She's bandaged from where the glass buried into her. Vasir was fast, so fast, so surprising. Liara is used to being untouchable and removed. She had not known she could be...fragile.

She frowns gently and turns her head when the door to her room hisses open. It's Shepard. Liara looks away from him. "Shepard," she says. She meant to say more. Is he worried for her? Is he here to lecture her? Both are unbearable. She took matters into her own hands and lost.

"I don't like that I have to keep coming back here to check on my team." He picks up a stool and plants it beside the hospital bed, taking a seat. Then he's quiet. Shepard is a patient man. Liara remembers when she used to be patient. It seems like so long ago. The galaxy isn't kind to those who are patient. The galaxy demands action. "What happened?"

"It is a long story," she says staring out the glass wall.

"I have time."

She shakes her head once. "No, you don't, Shepard. Our time is valuable. I risked my own—but I shouldn't take yours as well." She looks at her fingers, nicked with cuts and bruises. "I did what I thought was right."

"You decided to take on a Spectre. You didn't tell any of us what the hell was going on. What if something happened to you? Something worse than this? We need you in the war against the Reapers."

"You mean my network?"

"No," he says firmly. "What could make you go after Vasir?"

She's quiet a long time. She doesn't know how to have face-to-face conversations. She once thought it was the universe that had gone mad but maybe it's her. She doesn't know how to relate to anybody anymore. Her morals are questionable because her insight is keen, her information unquestionable. "You're so naïve, Shepard. You think all Spectres are like you."

"I know that Vasir has done a lot of good work."

"She worked for the Shadow Broker."

"You're the Shadow Broker now."

"It's different," she snaps. "It was different." Shepard will never understand. She could present the facts to him and he'd find a way to look between the lines, to find some reasonable solution. Sometimes reasonable solutions are the solutions of cowards, of those who aren't willing to go as far as is necessary. "I'm not sure how much Cerberus or Miranda Lawson ever told you about my involvement in the recovery of your body." EDI and Miranda Lawson knew for practical purposes—how much of that knowledge they shared with Shepard is still unclear. Liara hasn't wanted to talk about it and Shepard never thought to ask her. It was more convenient that way. "The Shadow Broker wanted to sell your body to the Collectors."

There's a long silence. "And Vasir was involved in that? She was helping him?"

"No. No." She takes a breath. "Not directly. I had a contact. A Cerberus agent. A Shadow Broker agent." When she says it aloud it sounds ridiculous, she sounds crazy. "Both. He helped me recover your body. He betrayed everyone for you and for me. He kept them distracted while I escaped with what was left of you." She remembers seeing Shepard's body. If it could be called that. It was... She steels herself. She won't think back to that woman who cried for so many reasons. "The Shadow Broker didn't take kindly to that. Naturally he captured him and tortured him for two years."

"Feron."

"That was the reason I couldn't join you on Illium. I had to get information so I could find him. Save him. Vasir was working for the Broker. He didn't want me to find him and he used her to kill my contacts whenever I came close."

"She was an assassin."

Liara considers. "Yes, in a way. I have no doubt that her many heroic deeds were accomplished by the information the Broker fed her in exchange."

"You don't sound angry."

Liara supposes she doesn't. She's tired. She isn't sure that she wouldn't have acted accordingly if she was in Vasir's shoes. What did Vasir know about the Shadow Broker trying to sell Shepard's body to the Collectors? Probably nothing. In fact, Liara found nothing in her extensive searches to prove that Vasir did know. "I am not one to judge. I don't have the footing," she admits vacantly. "Sometimes the ends justify the means, Shepard. I worked with Cerberus. You worked with Cerberus. Vasir worked with the Shadow Broker. I became the Shadow Broker. We all kill to keep others safe. I've killed from afar, with information."

"What have you done?"

It's better that he doesn't know. She thinks to tell him that but knows Shepard is stubborn and wouldn't let it go until she fesses up. He needs her for the mission but he's principled and would throw her off it, swearing to find some other way. Some other way that he wouldn't find. "It's nothing. I have already said too much. All you need to know is that if it weren't for Vasir I may have been able to save Feron."

"That's supposition. We don't kill on supposition."

"You let her walk away, without even talking to me."

"Come off it." This time, anger enters his voice. "If you'd told me about any of this from the beginning it wouldn't have happened that way. I've done some digging around. I've talked to the Council. She's been working on Thessia; she's been helping the resistance there. We need her. What's done is done. We don't have time for vendettas; we have something far bigger at stake. You need to let it go."

Liara grinds her jaw. "That's easy for you to say, isn't it? Do you think you're the only one who makes sacrifices? You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me and Feron."

Shepard stands and looks at her. "I need to know that if you see Vasir again you won't try anything stupid. You're tough, Liara but she wiped the floor with you."

Liara won't let it go, can't let it go. If she sees Vasir again she'll try to take another shot. She'll do better. Killing her will wipe clean the injustice. She's killed others for less. But she knows what Shepard wants to hear and she knows how to reassure him. "Maybe you're right. There are more important things at stake. I am sorry for—the inconvenience."

Shepard looks at her a long time, gauging her. Liara looks out the glass wall. "You had us all worried," he brushes a kiss onto her forehead. "The Normandy isn't the same without you. Heal up quickly. We're all waiting for you."

* * *

Traynor flips through an old _Asari Parenting_ data magazine. It is one of the scant selection of data magazines available, others being _Elcor Today_ and _H_ (the Hanar magazine). Traynor thinks the asari magazine the most immediately relatable until she scrolls through. There are recommendations for asari commando schools as well as the most exclusive clubs to dance at for a century or two. "_A century or two in any club will teach the asari the nature of patience, tact and diplomacy much needed for our Matriarch stage or Matron stage when we're searching for a suitable bondmate. Our equanimity will shine through when dealing with krogan, batarian and especially human bondmates."_

Traynor blanches. She realizes she's a human (how had she forgotten?) and that Liara is asari. If they do work out she'll die long before Liara. Long, long, long, _long_ before her.

How depressing.

There are several articles on new bondmate ceremonies. Some quite lovely though she doesn't know that Illium or Thessia necessarily look the way that they do in the magazine. Maybe in London? No, London is definitely out. What is she thinking? It wasn't long ago that she didn't know whether Liara could tolerate her presence and now she's thinking of bondmate ceremonies? It would be nice to get married to someone someday. She doesn't know that anyone will live long enough for it to happen.

A presence crashes down next to her in one of the chairs. Aethyta. She snatches the data magazine from Traynor and looks at it. "I thought she was here because she got taken down. Don't tell me you already knocked her up." Traynor gapes and flushes. Did she? How—no. She wonders if it would be appropriate to ask Aethyta about asari birth control. She keeps meaning to ask. Aethyta slaps her firmly on the back. "Buck up, kid. Liara's not pregnant. Not that I know of," she shoots her a look.

Traynor smiles nervously and wonders if asari fathers get as pissed off about others possibly knocking up their daughters as human males do. Traynor utters non-words and then a nurse blessedly tells her she can go see Liara. Traynor stands, spilling a host of other data magazines in the process and collects them, setting them down beside Aethyta. "I'll try not to be too long," she tells Aethyta.

"You couldn't if you wanted to," Aethyta says with a smirk.

Traynor doesn't know what to make of the remark but ignores it and rushes ahead, on the heels of the impatient nurse. Ah, she didn't get flowers. She should have gotten flowers. What was she thinking? Parenting and bondmate ceremonies are a long way off if she can't manage to remember small things like that.

Her stomach is in knots. She pauses outside of the door before closing her eyes, taking a breath and going in.

Liara faces out the window before glancing her way. Her face is unreadable. Traynor wonders if she's angry. Traynor does her best to smile bravely. "When I said we should play doctor— this isn't what I had in mind." There's a stool next to her and Traynor sits. Liara's face and arms are bruised in dark purples and reds. She looks remarkably vulnerable in the hospital gown. Her clothing is folded on a counter. "Is it all right that I've come?" Liara looks at her and still she says nothing. Is she intentionally torturing her? Traynor sets her fingers on the bed, not daring to take her hand. "I came early morning but they sent me away. How are you?"

"Fine." There's a long moment. "This is all an...exaggeration. They think I may have suffered a concussion. They're keeping me for analysis. I can do this aboard the Normandy with Dr. Chakwas." she sighs.

"I'm just glad you're…" she takes in the bandaging and the bruising before taking Liara's hand. It's cold. Traynor closes her other hand around it. "What were you doing?" Liara shakes her head. "Do you know how worried I was? You took off to the Citadel with a gun _after_ sending me a mountain of data that didn't need looking after. What were you playing at?"

"Distractions are valuable," she tells her without feeling. "I employed a few on the Citadel, if it makes you feel any better." It doesn't. "It keeps work clean and witnesses at bay. It salvages my reputation and Shepard's." There's a long silence, then she speaks as if having remembered. "It keeps civilians safe." Liara finally looks at her, her lips thinning before her eyes narrow thoughtfully, her lower lip trembles. Then she steadies it. "I needed you away from me. I wanted you safe."

"And you don't think I want the same for you?" she squeezes her hand gently.

"I warned you that I'm…not well-practiced with this. With people." She takes a shaky breath.

"You didn't return my messages."

"I didn't mean for everything to take so long. My omni-tool was damaged; I couldn't return your messages." She shakes her head. "I don't need you worrying after me."

Traynor pulls back, releasing her hand. "I can't exactly control it."

"I've been alone the majority of my life. These—stints with Shepard and you are the only time I've broken away from that isolation. I don't know how to not be alone. And when I'm with others I'm reminded why I always have been." Liara says dispassionately. "Everyone acts as if I cannot accomplish anything on my own but they're wrong. I have. And I can take care of myself."

"Naturally. It's all that wonderful self-care that landed you in this current predicament, isn't it?"

Liara frowns. "I needed to right a wrong. I've been chasing Vasir for years. If it wasn't for your meddling—"

"You might be dead?" Traynor asks. She hates her voice, indignant and angry. Worst yet, she hates how her eyes water. She's tired and stressed. She's disappointed and afraid. Also, the Reapers are attacking and her family is possibly dead. She has larger issues to worry about. She should focus on something else, anything else. "Look… I actually have a good deal of work to do—thanks to your diversion." She goes to the door. "I'm sorry if I screwed things up for you. I just didn't know and I thought—" Thought that she might get killed. "I wanted to help you."

Liara keeps silent.

"Why couldn't you have talked to me? Why can't you talk to me now? Aren't you comfortable without a monitor in front of you? I don't want this if it's going to be lies…. Or some experiment for you to feel as if you've accomplished something new. I want more than that. You should, too." She's said too much. To think that not too long ago she'd been getting carried away with herself, thinking that they might have a future together. That will teach her. "Sorry," she mutters. "Believe it or not, I don't make it a habit of berating hospital patients. Not on weekdays. Maybe we moved too quickly. I don't know. Is it really so bad to depend on someone?" Traynor shakes her head. Is Liara capable of being anyone other than the Shadow Broker? Is ruthless precision all she can articulate? No, she's better than that. She can be more than that. But Traynor doesn't have the energy to fight. "Feel better. I'll visit later."

Liara stares out the window, jaw set hard, saying nothing.

* * *

Liara's heart flutters uncomfortably. There is a sick, crushing feeling in her chest, like a black hole. Her eyes are glassy. She blinks and wipes them. They come away wet. She doesn't understand any of this.

She has tired of being kept in the hospital against her will. She won't sit idly by while others come to tell her of her failure. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, grimaces and stands. A dizzying wave of vertigo hits her. She takes some breaths and wills herself to not lose her footing. She won't reach out for support. She doesn't need it.

Why does everyone act as if she's broken? She isn't broken, she's only unwilling to let emotions guide her. Don't they see how illogical that is? Facts are the only things that can be relied upon. It isn't wrong to be this way. So why does she feel so awful?

Maybe she can't beat Vasir in conventional combat. But there must be another way. Some other way… She cannot allow Feron's death to go unpunished. Maybe it's her fault. Maybe she should have found another way. Maybe she should have fought Shepard to help her.

Goddess. She takes unsteady steps to where her clothes are and dresses unsteadily. After the Reapers are defeated, what will happen? Life will go on, everyone will scatter again and no doubt she'll be exiled back into a life that has little meaning for her.

What has she dedicated her life to? The Protheans. What a laugh. She thinks of Javik and feels herself a fool for her dedication. Samantha told her she'd done valuable work. At the time, Liara agreed.

Samantha… Goddess. What will happen between them? Anything? Is Samantha finished with her? The thought is unsettling and sad. Ultimately it doesn't matter. Humans don't live long anyway.

She brings a hand to her forehead, eyes stinging. She gasps and leans forward, resting against the small but heavy medical cart. Was she always this way? She doesn't remember that girl that everyone preferred. The door hisses open behind her and Liara straightens, taking hold of her jacket—it's torn again, and slipping into it.

She wipes her expression of feeling and turns. Aethyta. "They've released me so I'll be going," Liara tells her.

"You're a pretty good liar. But I just talked to the nurse and she tells me they want to hold you for another day or two."

"That's absurd," she waves the suggestion away and in so doing nearly loses her balance. "There is a Reaper war happening and medical teams and supplies are strained. It's wasteful to use that time and those resources on me. Especially since I have Dr. Chakwas on the Normandy."

"Oh, and you're planning on being seen by her, I'm sure."

"Well, yes." Not really. She shuffles. Aethyta stares at her. Liara mourns. It's harder to lie to her father. Or maybe Aethyta, being centuries upon centuries older than her is able to sniff her out. "Look, I can't stay here any longer. I shouldn't have stayed here as long as I did. The Shadow Broker network is important to the war effort. Without me it sits useless. There are so many things to take care of that—every moment I spend here is a waste of lives."

"How important you are. Given your impressive body count I didn't think you were too bothered by a waste of lives." Aethyta always mocks her. Liara doesn't understand it. Benezia wasn't this way. Beneazia was always kind and thoughtful.

"Sometimes you have to take lives to save lives." Liara moves to step past her and stumbles.

Aethyta catches her. "You go out of your way to make me worry, don't you?" Liara glares at her and then looks away. "I used to drive Nezzy crazy with this shit. I thought it was hysterical at the time but you don't even look like you're enjoying yourself."

"I don't need to enjoy myself. I'm not here to enjoy myself."

"Are you sure you're my daughter?" Aethyta smiles grimly and rights her, holding her shoulders tightly. "You and that Samantha okay? She looked like a kicked puppy when she left."

"Everything is fine," Liara snaps. She closes her eyes, thinking of her. She doesn't want to think of her. "We hardly know each other anyway."

"So you're going to play it that way, huh?" Aethyta looks at her for a long time. "Well… the only way you're going to learn is by falling on your face." She touches her face but Liara doesn't look at her. "Can you at least promise me that you'll try to be careful? You have no idea the tips I'm losing visiting you here."

Liara smiles thinly. She isn't sure how serious Aethyta is. Knowing her, not very. "I promise."

"I take it back. You're not a great liar." Aethyta releases her.

Liara takes a breath and shuffles where she stands. "I had no idea you were so…powerful."

"Well, I am a Matriarch and I used to be a commando. Do the math."

"Maybe someday I'll…be that strong. In the meantime, I'll have to devise other means." She bites her tongue. "Thank you for…helping me. I won't put you in that position again." Aethyta's eyes soften. Liara looks at the floor. Then she lifts her face and rights herself. She runs her hand along the sleeves of the jacket, noticing where the material is tighter, thanks to the bandages, where it's torn. It's splattered blue. Will Samantha fix it again…?

"I can walk you back to the Normandy," Aethyta says. "I won't make you hold my hand or anything."

Liara smiles wryly. "No. Thank you. I'm fine." She takes a step and feels dizzy. She allows a moment. Takes another unsteady breath. She waits for a smart-assed remark from Aethyta. It doesn't come. What she gets is Aethyta's hand gently on her back, the other on her shoulder, straightening her.

They exchange nothing further. Liara is grateful to her. If only she could stay in this room where things are easy. It is reassuring to be cared for. A strange feeling. One she cannot become accustomed to. She has to rely on herself. Liara hardens her eyes, strips any emotion of her face, buries her dangerous emotions and exits.


	6. Electronic

A/N: So it turns out the story is not dead. I've been sitting on this chapter for months, hating it, frankly. I re-read it recently and have decided it isn't that bad. Part of the reason I waited was that I was afraid it made Traynor and Ash too... something. Romantic, maybe. I wanted to make it longer before putting it up (and it should have been given the wait) but I've decided that it's best to wait on it until I'm good and familiar with the game again. This is something of an interlude. Again, thanks for the massive encouragement and awesome reviews. I think this story will be longer than I anticipated given how I set it up. Why do I do this to myself? Anyway, shorter chapter and all, I hope everyone enjoys and I hope it was worth somewhat of a wait...

* * *

The docks holding area has become a place for the refugees of the Reaper war. It's difficult for Traynor to visit. The grief is overwhelming, washing over any who enter like a tidal wave. It's difficult not to get sucked in. The Normandy crew, more often than not, flies towards the Reapers and comes out alive. It's easy to lose sight of the losses happening every moment.

Traynor gathers their little headway gives her an illusion of safety that doesn't exist for many others. The people gathered around the memorial are a testament to how dangerous the world has become. Thousands upon thousands of photographs are pinned up. It's staggering. Traynor sees old faces, young faces, beaming soldiers, mothers with their babies in their arms, happy couples, salarians, asari, batarians. Everyone is affected.

She clutches the photograph of her parents. It's been months with no word. Is it time to put their picture up and give them up for lost?

"Traynor? What are you doing here?" She doesn't immediately place the voice. She turns. Lieutenant-Commander Williams. Her usual expression of mild contempt and amusement is changed, sober and worried. Ashley looks at the photograph in Traynor's hand and back at her face. "Are you okay?" Traynor opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Then, she is crying. She tries to explain that she doesn't know, that she doesn't know, but she hasn't heard word. Gibberish broken by stints of tears and ragged breathing. She thought she was handling it all so well. "Hey, hey, it's all right." The constantly taunting Williams wraps her arms around her. Traynor tries to say that there are others here deserving of their tears, those with the ones that have unquestionably been lost. She is on the most secure vessel in the galaxy. She doesn't have the right to cry. She apologizes. Ashley dismisses it. "Let it out. The hardest part is the not knowing, isn't it?" she strokes her hair and Traynor finds herself crying on the shoulder of the woman who mocked her for watching asari porn. She hasn't spoken to Liara in days. Life is absurd and heartbreaking.

* * *

Liara has heard the eruption of laughter outside her office the majority of the evening. The Normandy crew: James, Ashley, Kenneth, Gabby, Steve, Samantha, all clearly inebriated and shouting whenever they have a winning hand in their card game. They don't even pretend to be considerate.

Liara normally doesn't sleep until far past this hour but they should be conscientious to other crew members. There is a lounge. She'd have pointed it out but they didn't invite her.

Liara tries to focus on work. There is so much to do. Yet her face and body are still bruised from her fight with Vasir. She hasn't been able to put together a suitable conversation to have with Samantha. She has devised many starts but nothing concrete. She won't attempt it until every word is in place. She considers it ironic that the controller of the greatest information network, in charge of the most critical communication in the galaxy is incapable of formulating a proper apology.

She kneads her forehead and turns sharply when the door opens. A flood of light spills into the dark room. It's Samantha and Ashley. Liara stands, quizzically. Traynor starts an electronica song on her omni-tool. It's loud. How is it that loud? "Dr. T'Soni!" Traynor slurs, rushing forward, losing her step in the process. Liara catches her shoulders, steadies her. Samantha's warm eyes settle on her face before she lowers them. "You haven't said a word to me since the hospital." For a moment she looks heartbroken. Liara's mouth goes dry.

Ashley shoves Traynor out of the way, onto the bed. Liara starts to go to her but Ashley stands in the way. "What's your problem? Is the Shadow Broker too good to apologize?" Liara can smell the alcohol on her breath. Who told her about that? Traynor? Shepard? Is she no longer capable of keep her identity a secret? "We saved your ass, you know." She indicates herself and Traynor. "And you—" she pauses, lifting a hand to collect herself. Liara glances at Traynor, who crawls over the bed, trying to get to the chess set situated on the small table beside the couches. "Christ, how much did we drink?"

"Oh, quite a few bottles," Traynor returns, having slid off the edge of the bed now. "I was going to teach you how to play chess. But I think I'll take a nap here instead."

"Damn it, Specialist!" Ashley stumbles over to her, taking hold of her arm and dragging her to her feet. The electronica music keeps squeaking. Liara groans inwardly. The noise. That isn't any music at all. "Grow a backbone! I can't be expected to do all the work! I've had to hear about you all damned night!" She tells Liara menacingly.

Really? That's promising news at least. Relief ebbs at her. She won't allow herself to feel it. Nothing is secured yet. Hope without a promise of delivery is nothing to be thankful for. Both women topple to the bed uselessly. How grating. Their arms touch. Liara feels ill. "Will you both leave?" Liara asks.

"I'm going to take a nap," Traynor takes one of the giant pillows and wraps her arms around it tightly. "And I can think of a great many things far worse than having two beautiful women in your bed!" she considers. "Well, I'm – I'm quite all right, aren't I?"

"You can do better than Liara," Ashley says vehemently.

"Oh, God, I'm going to throw up." Traynor groans. "Help me." She tells Ashley.

"You can count on me." She tries to sit up and collapses. "Once the room stops spinning."

The electronica music continues to bleat. Liara signs inwardly.

* * *

Her head feels as if a Reaper stepped on it. The swimming lights of the monitors and computer equipment stabs into her. She swears, closes her eyes. Eventually she realizes where she is. Her arm searches the bed blindly but finds no other contact besides ruffled sheets.

"You're awake." Liara's voice is much too loud. Traynor squeezes her eyes shut and curls into the pillow. "Ashley stumbled her way out of here hours ago, if you must know." Traynor mumbles something, incoherent even to herself. "I have some work to do."

"You always have work to do," she mutters. She hears the violent clicking of keys on a computer. She drank too much last night. She doesn't recall entering the room. She doesn't recall anything she might have said. She cringes and hopes she didn't say anything too foolish.

"There is a war to win. I'm not ready to hand the galaxy over to the Reapers."

Traynor opens her eyes and breathes softly. She wonders if she threw up. She hopes she didn't throw up. Liara thinks she's enough of a nuisance she doesn't want to add fuel to the fire. Especially if it's projectile vomit. Traynor wishes she could see her. It's too much effort to move. Too painful. Defeated by a hangover. And they think she stands a chance against the Reapers? Maybe she should be more like Shepard, more like Ashley—oh God, what did she say to her last night?

"And I don't have the luxury of drinking to intoxication," Liara adds. Is she judging her? Has Liara ever gotten drunk, Traynor wonders? She's probably angry she wasn't invited. Would she have come? Would she have stayed at her side? What are they? Are they anything to each other anymore? "How are you feeling?" she asks softly. Traynor doesn't respond. "It's still early morning. Rest. We'll speak later."

Traynor's stomach churns. She's cold and uncaring. Traynor still wants her. She waits for Liara to stand, to come closer, to talk further but she doesn't. Liara's jacket is draped along the couch, bloodied and torn. Traynor exhales shakily. Then, unthinkably, she falls asleep again.

* * *

Liara looks longingly at Traynor from time to time. Was she too short with Samantha when she awoke? She's unsure. Sometimes people mistake a statement of fact with cruelty. Even so… perhaps she could stand to be softer. She looks at the chess program she works on. The GUI is frighteningly simple and so is making the modifications she seeks. She has the data to superimpose the agents of war onto the board. Now it is simply a matter of finding a greater understanding for the game and assigning roles. It is a task well suited to her but she wants to be careful.

She hears a rustling of sheets and looks to the bed. Traynor sits, wipes at her eyes and stands. Liara watches her. Should she stand? Should she say something? Traynor looks towards the jacket on the couch and then walks towards the door. Liara rises uncertainly, fingers twining, hating the awful nerves rattling her.

"I overslept. I should have been in CIC an hour ago. Why didn't you wake me? A thorough kick to the ass would have done it."

Liara grimaces. "I'm… sorry. I wasn't thinking," she bows her head thoughtfully, trying to think of how she should proceed. For all the time that they've spent apart, she still hasn't thought of the right thing to say. She fears that no matter the tone or success of any possible conversation, Samantha will ask about Vasir and Liara will be faced with the choice of being truthful or becoming a liar. Neither will produce a good outcome.

"That makes two of us. You'd think that someone who could wade through an ocean's worth of data would have the foresight to set an alarm _before_ getting thoroughly hammered. Anyway… I can't remember everything that happened last night but you're well and dressed and I have a pounding headache—so my guess is nothing altogether memorable."

Liara smiles weakly.

Traynor looks embarrassed. "Sorry. I really should get to CIC. I promise not to get belligerently drunk in the future and interrupt your…work." There's a long moment. "Your face is still bruised." Liara steps closer. Traynor regards her cautiously. "I'll go."

She starts to go. Liara takes her arm, kisses her. The kiss is unrequited, or perhaps Traynor isn't full awake yet. Or maybe, Liara realizes sickeningly, Traynor doesn't want to kiss her. "Can't we talk?" Liara says.

"We _can_. We haven't. I've written. You haven't responded. I've tried to look at you—you've looked away." Samantha pulls her arm away. Liara can't meet her eyes. Doesn't know how to explain that she wanted to have everything in place before risking any mistakes. "I have work, too. It's not as important as yours but it is important and I need to attend to it. I'm not willing to hand the galaxy over to the Reapers, either."

She's gone, all too quickly.

* * *

Traynor slumps face down on the mess hall table, arms stretched out reminiscent of a tired, defeated cat. EDI sits across from her. "This is the tenth game in a row that I have easily defeated you. I do not believe that my superior calculations and outcomes speed is the cause for your accruing losses. You are, in fact, weak." Traynor groans. "Submit. Kneel before me and I may spare your life."

Traynor lifts her head to look at her. EDI's icy exterior, features crafted to remain aloof, are capable of warmth. There's a hint of a smile on her lips, in her voice. Kneel before her. Traynor blushes. Is it completely ridiculous to have a crush? Yes. Probably. She tries not to be distracted by her body. Her ridiculously well formed body. What does she feel like? Oh, that's horrible. EDI is a friend.

Why did she have to get distracted by Liara's shy smiles? She should have focused on EDI. She'd already been lusting after her voice. EDI is a gynoid (sort of), but the two of them can laugh together, joke, play chess. Maybe she shouldn't bother getting attached to anyone—she wouldn't be slumped across a table feeling miserable if she hadn't. But what would the point of living be then? If you couldn't be close to anyone? Feel anything? Then she'd just be Liara. Liara is millions of light years away. She's so distant Traynor can scarcely see her.

"You're not kneeling," EDI reminds her.

Traynor forces herself to sit up. "Sorry, EDI."

"A vid system scan reveals that you and Liara have been spending significantly less time together. In fact, you were intimate only a handful of times before your current separation." Traynor's cheeks darken. Does she watch everything? Know everything? _See_ everything? "You appear embarrassed. Your body temperature and heart rate has elevated."

"I'm not…exactly used to being _watched_ when I'm ah—being… intimate," Traynor sulks. "There are things that should be private, EDI." Hasn't she had this conversation with Liara often in the past? Why does she develop crushes on nosy women?

"I am interested in organics desire to aggregate towards one another in times of desperation. Shepard stated as much to me in the Citadel. In times of stress, organics seek release and comfort. Shepard has found much comfort with Lieutenant-Commander Williams. I am 'curious' whether Jeff seeks the same comfort with this platform."

Traynor's jaw drops. "Erm—well…who wouldn't… want to seek—comfort with… your form? That is—" EDI's eyebrows arch. "Ah—well… physically—but not just physically—you are—" A shadow spills over the table and Traynor looks up. Liara! Should she be relieved? She isn't sure. She stands quickly. "EDI and I were just discussing…"

"Desperation, comfort and sexual intercourse," EDI states blandly. "Would you like to join us?"

Traynor can't help but imagine the three of them together. Her stomach has butterflies. Liara does not look to find the idea half as appealing, narrowing her eyes on EDI before looking at Traynor. "I'd like a moment with Samantha, if you don't mind." Liara says, though her voice contradicts the request of the statement, making it into a demand.

"I do not." EDI says. She doesn't move. "Oh. I see." She stands. "Perhaps we can finish this conversation later," she tells Traynor with a nod and moves away.

Traynor follows her form, sad that she's departed. EDI is easy on the eyes and seemingly easy in every other way—er—conversationally, anyway. It is with great reluctance that she turns back to Liara. Liara looks her over, an assessment is made and then she cocks her head for Traynor to follow her. Having little choice in the matter, Traynor does so, following her into the dark room that is her office first and her personal space, second.

The door shuts behind them. "It was a mistake kissing you," Liara tells her with all the emotion of someone who forgot to put the beer in the fridge. She's wearing her jacket again, stained with blood and torn she looks vulnerable. Traynor thought that the sight would appease her but instead she's thrown. "That's what I get for acting impulsively. It's always been easier, less complicated to plan matters out in advance. Humans are impulsive. Asari are more…reserved… We bide our time because we have it to bide. Your short lived species does not have the same luxury."

"Why _did _you kiss me?"

"I've been waiting …too long to find the right words. A reconciliation was the intended goal. I thought we might be able to forego any talk… by moving forward with action." Her hand grazes the back of her neck tiredly before slipping away to her side. "Another miscalculation."

"Stop calculating and just talk to me."

"I don't know how." She strides back and forth, each way moving the exact distance before sitting and propping her face on a curled fist to look at her. "When I was first aboard the Normandy I wasn't initially trusted. In time, the crew came to like me. They thought I was shy and sweet," she smiles bittersweetly. "Maybe I was. I'm not anymore."

"I see those qualities in you from time to time. They drew me to you."

"You prefer her, too. That old self." She stands, comes closer. "I'm not her anymore. This is who I am. This is who I have to be. If you can't accept that… perhaps you should forget about me."

"About us?" Traynor asks. Liara doesn't meet her eyes. "I'm afraid I don't want to do that. You're nosy, secretive, cold, a little alienating sometimes…" she touches her face. "But I think you're more than this. I know you helped stop Sovereign and Saren. I know you're the Shadow Broker. I like all those things about you that aren't on record…" she touches her face. Liara's eyes close. "I like all those things about you that are soft. Those things you try to hide…" she lifts her face to look at her. "You do a good job, by the way. Too good of a job, sometimes."

Liara exhales. "This isn't an act. This is who I am."

"Is that why you plan conversations out in advance? Trying to say the right thing? Or challenge Spectre's who wipe the floor with you? Face it—you have more heart than you let on. And for the record… I like that about you. I like who you are…beneath all of this." Liara meets her eyes. She keeps them on her as Traynor peels away her clothing, layer after layer. "I know how you try to hide but I will find you. I pay attention…and… I play for keeps."

"Keeps?" Liara asks shakily.

Traynor nods, mouthing the word, her lips parting as Liara kisses her anew.


End file.
